[Verse 1]
Me and my buddy spent thousands on raisin' these rides
Spent a few more thousand on the speakers inside
I wanted a paint job but wrapped it in matte black
Decided I wanted camouflage and took it right back
I'm bumpin' Jones County and it's loud and clear
Now you can't see me comin' but you can damn sure hear
There's plenty of room to recline in my crew max
Cowboy leather seats are titanium packed
Now that's 50 on the truck, customize another 50
I'm out a hundred grand could have bought a Bentley
Now you can tell a county boy ain't scared to drop a stack
Rednecks blowin' paychecks to be exact, uh

[Chorus]
G-G-Georgia boy fresh
We ain't playin' witchya
We ain't playin' witchya
Uh, ahh

[Verse 2]
To all the redneck women that bathin' in mud
Ain't nothin' hotter than a country girl that don't give a what
And they come in every size, triple X to itty bitty
But every girl looks better in a rebel flag bikini
You think she's hot now wait 'til you see her drive a dually
With a 12 pack of honeys in the bed liner Jacuzzi
Complete with LED that turn purple and blue
The colors move with the music and the girls do too
Now they all gettin' drunk, drinkin' straight out of a picture
Cornbread here shake it like a Polaroid picture maker
Hillbilly Drew like he's in the first grade now
Everybody's followin', they started a parade, uh

[Chorus]
G-G-Georgia boy fresh
We ain't playin' witchya
We ain't playin' witchya
Uh, ahh

[Verse 3]
And if you think it's silly for country boys to bust wide
Don't you take a trip on down to mount up
Crawling rock in the oakley arbuckle is serious
Instead of judgin' covers of books, come experience it
Don't let the flags scare ya, we won't hurt a fly
But threaten the wife and kids then you gotta die, yeah
Family comes first, we consider God our member
That's why we decorate a tree right around December, uh

[Chorus]
G-G-Georgia boy fresh
We ain't playin' witchya
We ain't playin' witchya
Uh, ahh

[Verse 4]
Cash on delivery, don't write me a check
If Demun don't get dollars he ain't rockin' a set
And I ain't with the merch cut unless you tote it and count it
And if it ain't in the paperwork, don't ask me about it
If your drunk buddy's thinkin' 'bout grabbing a shirt
Tell him check my track record, merch snatchers get hurt
Pretty sore grill scattered over the map
And I ain't even tryna brag, that there's a fact
But I don't want trouble, I'm just tryna sing
And let the world know how a county boy does his thing
Take care of my girls, make mom and dad proud
Hit the stage like a beast and the crowd screams loud

[Chorus]
G-G-Georgia boy fresh
We ain't playin' witchya
We ain't playin' witchya
Uh, ahh