Writing [INTRO — Spoken over a banjo and a fart] Well, slap my ass and call me Loretta! This here's Billy Bob Troy, comin' at ya live From a double-wide palace off Route 69! Got a six-pack of piss-water, a truck with no brakes, And a cousin named Tammy who makes her own steaks! YEE-HAW, MOTHERFUCKERS! [VERSE 1] I got a mullet like a possum and a beer-belly gut, A Confederate-looking mustache and a tooth made of nut. My pickup truck's rusty, my exhaust pipe's gone, And my check-engine light's been lit since Clinton was on. Got a rebel flag flyin' off a shopping cart, A tattoo of a tractor and a broken-ass heart. My boots smell like cow shit, my jeans smell like piss, And my idea of fine dining is a gas-station biscuit! My cousin's my girlfriend, my sister's my ex, My dog drinks Bud Light and my pig cashes checks. Got a shotgun for courtin', a chainsaw for chores, And a bathroom that opens directly outdoors! [CHORUS] We're shit kickin' in the sticks, boys, raise that can, Got a beer in one hand and a squirrel in the other hand! We're piss-drunk, ass-backward, proud as a tick, With a rusty-ass trailer and a septic tank slick! Shit kickin'! (YEE-HAW!) Beer drinkin'! (HELL YEAH!) Corn likker flowin' through our underwear! We're redneck royalty, the kings of the ditch, Billy Bob Troy and the shit-kickin' rich! [VERSE 2] We got NASCAR on Sunday, Monday's for jail, Tuesday we go fishin' with a worm in a pail. Wednesday's the tractor pull, Thursday's the fight, Friday we get drunk enough to marry a satellite. My buddy Earl got arrested for fightin' a goat, Said the goat talked shit and deserved every blow. Cletus lost a finger in a fireworks display, Now he flips folks off in a slightly different way. Our moonshine's so strong it'll strip paint off a barn, Make a preacher see Elvis and a possum play guitar. We deep-fry Twinkies, Spam, and possum stew, Then blame our explosive diarrhea on the barbecue! [CHORUS] We're shit kickin' in the sticks, boys, raise that can, Got a beer in one hand and a squirrel in the other hand! We're piss-drunk, ass-backward, proud as a tick, With a rusty-ass trailer and a septic tank slick! Shit kickin'! (YEE-HAW!) Beer drinkin'! (HELL YEAH!) Got a plastic lawn chair and a mullet to spare! We're redneck royalty, the kings of the ditch, Billy Bob Troy and the shit-kickin' rich! [VERSE 3 — FASTER, DIRTIER] My truck's got three tires, the fourth one's a dream, The seats are duct tape and the windows are screens. My transmission fell out by the Piggly Wiggly, But I still do sixty down the road lookin' giggly. Got a Confederate belt buckle the size of a plate, A pocket full of coupons and a warrant past its date. I wear camouflage pajamas to hide from my wife, Who found out last Tuesday I'm her brother for life. My uncle Bubba's got a pet raccoon named Steve, He steals all our cigarettes and shits up our sleeves. Grandma's on the porch with a bottle of gin, Screamin', "Turn that damn banjo down, or I'll shoot the next hymn!" We got mud bogs, hog calls, lawn-mower races, Missing front teeth and sunburned faces. Our dating app's called "Who Lives Down the Road?" Swipe right for a cousin, swipe left for a toad! [BRIDGE — SAD FIDDLE, DRUNK VOCALS] Now I ain't got money, I ain't got class, I ain't seen a dentist since he checked my ass. My house leans left and my porch leans right, And the possums in the attic put up a hell of a fight. But I got my old hound dog, my jug, and my truck, A half-dead lawn mower and a whole lotta luck. When the world's gone to hell and the bank takes my land, I'll be drinkin' warm beer with a possum in my hand. 'Cause the city folks got lawyers, fancy cars, and degrees, But they ain't never made love in a broken-down RV. They got imported cheese and their wine in a glass— WE GOT GAS-STATION NACHOS AND A BUCKET OF ASS! [BREAKDOWN — BANJO SOLO] Pick it, Earl! (Banjo plays like it's trying to escape.) Now somebody fire up that grill! Somebody hide the meth! Somebody tell Uncle Randy That ain't a deer, that's the neighbor's pet! And who the hell pissed in my cowboy hat?! ...Aw, never mind. It's rainwater. [VERSE 4 — THE OUTLAW FINALE] I got a rebel yell louder than a chainsaw scream, A bald eagle tattoo and a government dream. I call myself an outlaw, but here's the damn truth: I got banned from Walmart for stealing dog food. My horse's got fleas and my saddle's got mold, My truck won't start unless you threaten it cold. I proposed to my sweetheart with a ring from a can, She said, "Billy Bob, you're the sorriest son of a man!" But she climbed in the truck with her hair full of hay, And we drove to the Waffle House to start our big day. The preacher got drunk and the best man got sick, And the honeymoon ended when we got stuck in a ditch! [FINAL CHORUS — EVERYBODY SCREAMING] We're SHIT KICKIN' IN THE STICKS, boys, raise that can! Got a beer in one hand and a squirrel in the other hand! We're piss-drunk, ass-backward, redneck as shit, Got a trailer full of junk and a septic tank lit! Shit kickin'! (KICK THAT SHIT!) Beer drinkin'! (DRINK THAT SHIT!) Moonshine burnin' through the underwear! We're the kings of the holler, the dukes of the ditch, Billy Bob Troy and the shit-kickin' rich! [OUTRO — SPOKEN] Well, that's all the culture we got time for tonight. Remember, folks: If your truck runs, your dog bites, And your cousin says she's pregnant... ...you might just be livin' the American dream. This here's Billy Bob Troy, Signin' off from the sticks. Now somebody get this damn possum outta my cooler! YEE-HAW, YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARDS! (A final banjo twang. A shotgun blasts in the distance. A dog barks. Somebody throws up.) [END — TRACK 13: “MAMA SAID DON'T PLAY THIS AT CHURCH”]
