Well, hello there folks, how the hell are you doin':
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It's good to be in your local bar again.
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So let's get loud, we'll get stoned an' get proud,
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Have a damn good time until the show's at an' end.
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Sometimes I'm wired an' sometimes, I'm tired,
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But I'm doin' the best that I can.
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So let's have a drink and a glum with Hank,
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An' may the outlaws rise again.
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Well I'm a son of a son:
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I've got a chip of what I've said an' done.
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Well, I remember watchin' ol' Waylon,
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When he was shootin' his shotgun.
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It's a certain kinda livin',
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It's a certain kinda style.
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Not everybody likes us,
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But we we drive some folks wild.
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-Instrumental Break-
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Well I think I'd rather eat the barrel,
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Of a double-barrel loaded shotgun,
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Than to hear that shit they call pop-country music,
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On ninety-eight-point-one.
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Just so you know, so it's it's set in stone,
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Kid Rock don't come from where I come from:
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Yeah, it's true, he's a Yank, he ain't no son of Hank:
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If you even thought so, god-damn, you're fucking dumb.
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So let's get real loud:
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Let's get stoned and proud.
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Pour me another shot of whiskey,
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An' this one's for the south.
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It's a certain kinda livin',
|
It's a certain kinda style.
|
Not everybody likes us,
|
But we we drive some folks wild.
|
Not everybody likes us,
|
But we we drive some folks wild.
|
Not everybody likes us,
|
But we we drive some folks wild.
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-----------------
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Not Everybody Likes Us
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| Hank Williams III |
