Back roads

Yeah,

Backroad dust kickin’ up behind me,

Big-ass truck, got the whole damn county remindin’ me,

I don’t give a fuck what they say, let ’em talk,

Boots on the gravel while I’m ridin’ that backroad.

Hell yeah, I’m country, but I rap that shit,

Mud on the tires and a badass whip,

Got a pocket full of cash and a tank full of gas,

Middle finger up, I’m just lettin’ shit pass.

Fuck being broke, I’m tryna get paid,

Work all week then I raise hell Saturday,

Cold beer? Nah—just the sound of that bass,

Windows down, moonlight all in my face.

I came from the dirt, I ain’t changing my ways,

Still cuss like hell and still work for my pay,

If you don’t like me, shit, get out my lane,

I’m a country-ass outlaw with a microphone flame.

Yeah, fuck the drama, fuck the fake-ass friends,

I’m gonna ride this road till the damn thing ends,

Arizona heat, country boy mentality,

Built from the struggle, now I’m chasing that salary.

So crank that shit up, let the speakers blow,

Four tires spinnin’ while I’m hittin’ the road,

Ain’t nobody tellin’ me where the hell I should go—

I’m a country-rap motherfucker,

BACKROAD BOSS MODE.