<!-- start of lyrics -->
|
Look at them boys in the back of that truck
|
Somebody ought to jerk a knot in their butts
|
Out ridin' around like they own this town
|
That racket turned all the way up
|
|
It's too early for school to let out
|
and the Pastor's boy just threw a cigarette out
|
I sure hope there ain't beer in them cups
|
'Cause our star quarterback's turnin' them up
|
|
Them boys don't know one thing about life
|
True love or trouble, struggle or strife
|
They think it's all just fun and games
|
Like laws and rules or balls and chains
|
|
Treatin' little girls like hearts don't break
|
Treatin' old men like hands don't shake
|
I pray it's just a phase they're goin' through
|
Yeah but what are we gonna do with them boys
|
|
I heard ol' Franks grandson got caught
|
With a case full of beer that Smith boy bought
|
Y'all didn't hear all of this from me
|
But I heard they got it with a fake i.d.
|
|
Them boys
|
Lookin' back on the times we shared
|
From rock 'n roll to these rockin' chairs
|
The same ones our granddads sat in
|
By this old woodstove in this hardware store
|
Talkin' the gossip the weather and war
|
And how much trouble we were in
|
|
Oh, you can bet they said back then
|
They don't know a thing
|
About love
|
About life
|
Them boys
|
<!-- end of lyrics -->
|
|
-----------------
|
Them Boys
|
Brantley Gilbert |