We wear patched jeans with busted seams
And eat fat-back and white dried beans
They say we’re poor
But we’re rich and fine
‘Cause I’m all yours and you’re all mine

We’re limousine lovers in a pick-up truck
Making million dollar memories
While stuck in this rut
We’re cotton-pickin’ huggers way down on their luck
But we’re limousine drivers in a pick-up truck
We’re limousine drivers in a pick-up truck

We’re months behind on all our bills
We can’t buy things to bring us thrills
Who says we’re poor
The rich ones do
Those who envy me for having you

Got three sweet kids all under six
They’re full of fun and wild with tricks
A mansion might be some folks’ style
We’re richer by a country mile

We’re limousine lovers in a pick-up truck
Making million dollar memories
While stuck in this rut
We’re cotton-pickin’ huggers way down on their luck
But we’re limousine drivers in a pick-up truck
We’re limousine drivers in a pick-up truck