[Verse 1]
Friday night, strings tuned just right
On a stage under some cheap neon lights
Thirty-five of my best friends in the crowd
At that Town Pump where I was playing when
I was just nineteen and my friends couldn't get in
But you sure as hell know we were sneakin' through the back door
I've played forty-six out of fifty states
For the last ten years trying to find my way
But every time I leave I just wanna come back home
I'm California grown

[Chorus]
Yeah we spend our weekdays with dirt on our hands
Weekends with our toes in the sand
Shootin' whiskеy on a Friday night
But Saturday we're sippin' Margaritas in the daylight
Sunday whеn the service ends
Hop in the truck throw the boat on a hitch
Pullin' Tracy over six-foot waves
Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake
Just me and the boys doin' all we know
Yeah, there's nothing quite like this place that I call home
I'm California grown
Yeah, I'm California grown

[Verse 2]
You might think you know about this place and say
"There ain't nothin' country 'bout the Golden State
It's just palm trees, beaches, and celebrities" (California love)
Well, have you ever heard about that Bakersfield Sound?
Owens and Haggard used to run that town
You go two hours north of the Hollywood sign
You'll find farmlands, miles wide

[Chorus]
Weekdays with dirt on our hands
Weekends with our toes in the sand
Shootin' whiskey on a Friday night
But Saturday we're sippin' Margaritas in the daylight
Sunday when the service ends
Hop in the truck throw the boat on a hitch
Pullin' Tracy over six-foot waves
Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake
Just me and the boys doin' all we know
Yeah, there's nothing quite like this place that I call home
I'm California grown
Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy
Yeah, we're California grown
Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy
[Bridge]
Yeah, from Santa Rosa all the way to LA
From San Diego to the San Fran Bay
Well, you can find me in the Sacramento Valley
Probably shootin' shit with Mr. Jon Pardi

Chorus]
Weekdays with dirt on our hands
Weekends with our toes in the sand
Shootin' whiskey on a Friday night
But Saturday we're sippin' Margaritas in the daylight
Sunday when the service ends
Hop in the truck throw the boat on a hitch
Pullin' Tracy over six-foot waves
Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake
Just me and the boys doin' all we know
Yeah, there's nothing quite like this place that I call home
I'm California grown
Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy
California grown
Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy
California grown