Ever heard of mule jumping competitions? Yep, it's a real thing! Down in places like Pea Ridge, Arkansas, folks bring their stubbornest mules, bet their hard-earned cash, and watch these beasts soar over fences, barrels, and whatever else stands in their way. Some mules can clear over 1.5 meters! 🏇💨 And that’s exactly what this song is all about—wild redneck energy, moonshine-fueled madness, and a whole lotta dumb bets. 🤠🔥 🎸 "Mule Jumpin’ Madness" blends hard-hitting electric guitar riffs, stomping beats, and twangy banjo licks into a true redneck rock anthem. Expect rowdy gang vocals, foot-stomping energy, and a story so ridiculous, it might just be true. Mules on moonshine? You bet. 🔊 Crank it up, grab a beer, and let’s see whose mule can fly the highest! 🍻🐴 🔻 Subscribe for more outlaw country & redneck rock! 🔻 📢 Don’t forget to LIKE & COMMENT – tell us your wildest county fair story! Lyrics: Out in Pea Ridge, 'round county fair, Folks line up, bring their best mule there. Bet your paycheck, place your pride, Gonna see whose donkey flies sky-high! Jump, jump, that mule ain't slow! Tied to a rocket, let that beast go! Whiskey in the air, cash on the line, Who’s got a mule that can touch the sky? Billy Ray swore his mule was best, Said, "Ain't no jumper, but he’ll do his best!" Mule just stood there, chewin’ cud, Then cleared that fence like a bat outta mud! Crowd went silent, stakes got high, One old geezer said, "That mule’s on rye!" The judge took a sip, sniffed real close, "Well hell, that ain’t hay—that’s straight-up hooch!" Crowd erupts, fists in the sky, Mule took a shot and learned to fly! Next year’s race? Let’s raise that bar— Put wings on a mule, see if he hits a star! Sheriff got mad, called it a crime, Said, "That ain't sports, that’s moonshine time!" But ain't no law ‘bout drunk-ass mules, So next year’s jackpot just got huge! Now every farm boy’s trainin' hard, Got mules on treadmills in the yard. Puttin’ Red Bull in their hay, Tryin’ to make ‘em levitate! Y’all come back next year, bring your bets, Cause Mule Jumpin’s got no regrets. And if your ass won’t leave the ground... Just feed him moonshine, he’ll come ‘round! #RedneckRock #SouthernRock #CountryMusic #MuleJumping #FunnySong #PeaRidge #OutlawCountry #RockNRoll #RuralLife #MoonshineMadness

"Four Days in the Pit" is a raw redneck rock banger about one man’s greasy, frustrating war with his beat-up '92 Ford. Four days. Busted tools. Screamed prayers. Nothing worked — until, outta nowhere, that stubborn truck roared back to life like a demon in denim. Fueled by heavy guitar riffs, toolbox percussion, and gritty vocals, this track turns mechanical rage into a darkly funny anthem for every gearhead who’s ever threatened to set their ride on fire. No love songs. No soft edges. Just boots, busted knuckles, and a truck that don’t give a damn. Crank it up and feel the rage turn into rhythm. Lyrics: Four damn days, stuck under my '92 Ford, Cussin' at bolts I couldn't afford. Starter clicks, but she won't spin, Swapped that junk out — same mess again. She just blinked, coughed, lit up, died, I kicked the tire, nearly cried. Manual says page 42, Hell with that, I need a brew. Fuel pump’s fine, I checked it twice, Even bled the line and prayed to Christ. Battery’s fresh, wires tight, But she just groaned like she lost the fight. "Maybe she’s cursed… or got Chevy demons inside." Billy Joe said “Try duct tape, man,” I told him, “That tape’s why I’m in this jam.” I used a wrench, then used my boot, Kicked the damn hood till it came loose. Lit a smoke, took one last glance, She spit oil on me like it was planned. She just blinked, coughed, lit up, died, I kicked the tire, nearly cried. Manual says page 42, Hell with that, I need a brew. "Night four... just me and the beast. No hope, no clue." She blinked again — no sound, no fire, Then coughed once more… and caught like wire. She roared to life like Satan’s pet, Smoke and fury, damn near jet. I stood there dumb, lost and worn, Still don’t know why — just got reborn. So if your ride won’t make a peep, Try a prayer, a kick, and lose some sleep. 'Cause sometimes hell ain’t hot or deep — It’s four damn days in your own damn heap. #FourDaysInThePit #RedneckRock #SouthernRock #TruckFixAnthem #OutlawGarageRock #OldTruckProblems #GearheadLife #DieselAndGrease #BackyardMechanic #TruckWontStart #WrenchAndWhiskey #VibeFoundry #NoLoveSongsJustRage

What happens when your truck decides whiskey is the only fuel it’ll run on? Dive into the hilarious and absurd world of "My Truck Stole My Jack", a Southern Rock banger with a twist! Featuring gritty guitar riffs, powerful vocals, and a storytelling tone that’s as wild as the whiskey-fueled legend itself. If you love a good laugh and hard-hitting Southern rock, this track is for you! Don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe for more original Southern rock songs! Lyrics: Bought a truck from a shady old guy, Said it’s got charm, but don’t ask why. Filled the tank, gave it a start, But it growled back, "Boy, where’s the hard stuff at?" He don’t want gas, he don’t want oil, Just a shot of Jack to keep him loyal. Give him a drink, he’ll start to roar, Without his whiskey, he’s done for sure. Tried a bottle of cola to change his mind, He sputtered and stalled, left me behind. Said, "Son, I ain’t no child’s machine, I’m a whiskey truck, pure and mean." He don’t want gas, he don’t want oil, Just a shot of Jack to keep him loyal. Give him a drink, he’ll start to roar, Without his whiskey, he’s done for sure. Took him to a bar, let him have his fill, Bartender laughed, "That truck’s got skill!" Drained half the shelf, wheels started to spin, Left the lot with a bottle and a grin. Neighbors think I’m losing my mind, Chasin’ my truck like a moonshine find. Every mile, he’s shouting "More!" Guess he’s got dreams of a liquor store. He don’t want gas, he don’t want oil, Just a shot of Jack to keep him loyal. Give him a drink, he’ll start to roar, Without his whiskey, he’s done for sure. One night he vanished, no goodbye, Followed a trail of bottles, dry. Found him parked near a Tennessee sign, He said, "This is where I’ll shine!" Now he’s a legend on the southern road, The whiskey-fueled truck with a heavy load. If you see him rumblin’, tail held high, He’s chasin’ whiskey ‘til the day he dies. #SouthernRock #MyTruckStoleMyJack #WhiskeyTruck #CountryMusic #OriginalSong #SouthernVibes #RedneckRock

We don’t do honky-tonk that often anymore, but when we do, we make sure it’s a damn good one! 🎸🔥 This special track brings back that classic barroom energy, telling the hilarious tale of a Southern man’s frantic search for his flag before the biggest patriot event of the year. With lively piano, twangy guitars, and a stompin’ rhythm, this song is all about red, white & blue dedication—mixed with a bit of chaos! 🇺🇸 Sing along, raise ‘em high, and enjoy this rare honky-tonk ride! 🍻 Lyrics: Rollin’ down the highway, feelin’ real proud, Cooler full of beer, radio loud. Looked in the mirror, had to hit the brakes, Lord have mercy, made a big mistake! Where’s my flag? Oh, hell no! Can’t show up without that red, white, and bold! Gotta find one quick, don’t care what it takes, Ain’t no way I’m rollin’ in late! Swung by Mama’s, ran through the door, She said, "Boy, it’s hangin’ where it was before!" Tripped on the dog, hit the old screen, Daddy just laughed, said, "Son, you’re mean!" Where’s my flag? Oh, hell no! Can’t show up without that red, white, and bold! Gotta find one quick, don’t care what it takes, Ain’t no way I’m rollin’ in late! Checked the truck stop, asked old Clyde, Said, "Boy, we’re out, but I’ll let you slide." Took one off the counter, ran like hell, Nearly tripped on a biker, man, he sure did yell! Where’s my flag? Oh, hell no! Can’t show up without that red, white, and bold! Gotta find one quick, don’t care what it takes, Ain’t no way I’m rollin’ in late! Then my buddy pulled up, grinnin’ real wide, "Got five in my truck, hop in, let’s ride!" Waved one high, let the engine roar, Ain’t losin’ my pride, not today, no more! Got my flag, hold it high, Ain’t no fool gonna pass me by. Raised it up, let freedom ring, Now let’s drink, let’s dance, let’s sing! Found my flag, hell yeah, let’s go! Raise ‘em up, let that eagle show! No more runnin’, no more chase, Just cold beer and a tailgate place! #HonkyTonk #CountryMusic #SouthernPride #AmericanAnthem #RedWhiteAndBlue #CountrySong #Patriot #WhereIsMyFlag #HonkyTonkSpecial #USA

"Dumbbells Ain’t an Axe" is a hard-hitting southern rock track that throws shade at modern gym culture while celebrating the grit and raw strength of traditional labor. This song takes you back to the days when biceps were built swinging axes, not lifting dumbbells under neon lights. With razor-sharp guitar riffs, a pounding rhythm, and sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek lyrics, it paints a vivid picture of a lifestyle rooted in sweat, dirt, and honest work. If you’ve ever laughed at someone flexing for selfies or rolled your eyes at motivational gym music blasting in your headphones, this song’s for you. It’s a tribute to the kind of strength you can’t buy – the kind earned through chopping wood, digging trenches, and hauling hay. Whether you’re a redneck at heart, a southern rock fan, or just someone who appreciates a good dose of humor, "Dumbbells Ain’t an Axe" will get your boots tapping and your head nodding. From the first gritty riff to the last raw note, this track delivers an authentic southern vibe that celebrates hard work and pokes fun at modern conveniences. Add it to your playlist for a shot of rebellious energy and a reminder of what real strength looks like. Lyrics: We swung the axe, not shiny weights, Built this strength with heavy crates. Sweat on the brow, no protein bars, Hard work’s the gym, not fancy cars. Dumbbells ain’t an axe, that’s just a fact, Real strength comes with a farmer’s back. No neon signs, no monthly dues, Just sweat and dirt in worn-out boots. Y’all pose for clicks, we worked for bread, Our gains were earned, not pumped or fed. No air-conditioned room, just a field to plow, The grind was real, it’s still here now. You blast your tunes to feel the fire, But hard work don’t need a choir. No earbuds here, just the sound of grit, Steel on wood, yeah, that’s the hit. Your treadmill spins, but you don’t move, Out in the field, you’d find your groove. Keep your gym, I’ll keep my axe, Muscle like mine don’t fade, just stacks. Dumbbells ain’t an axe, that’s just a fact, Real strength comes with a farmer’s back. No neon signs, no monthly dues, Just sweat and dirt in worn-out boots. So take your selfies, I’ll take my time, Strength ain’t for show, it’s built in the grind. #GymHumor #SouthernRock #RedneckStrength #CountryLife #WorkoutParody #FarmStrength #BlueCollarPride #NoPainNoGrain #MuscleAndMud #HardWorkOverHype

Full Throttle Granny is a high-octane redneck rock story about a badass grandma who steals a lifted truck and raises hell across the South. From lipstick notes on the fridge to burning rubber in front of a church, this track is pure outlaw chaos wrapped in gritty guitar riffs and stomping drums. It's fast, it's loud, and it's unapologetically Southern. With moonshine in her cup and a trail of wreckage behind her, Granny proves that age ain’t got nothin’ on horsepower. If you love southern rock, truck anthems, rebel storytelling, and unfiltered redneck energy, Full Throttle Granny is your next ride-or-die track. Crank it up, share it with your crew, and remember: never leave your keys near Meemaw’s gun rack. This is raw, funny, and loud music for anyone who’s ever dropped a gear and disappeared in the dust. Join this here channel and get yourself some sweet perks, y'all! 🤠🔥 Lyrics: Woke up late with a hangin’ head, Truck was gone, so was my meds. Fridge had a note in lipstick red: "Gone racin’. Don't end up dead." Grandma stole my truck, blastin’ outlaw rock, Screamin’ down Main with a bird in stock. No damn brakes, just grit and luck, She’s the queen of chaos in my pickup truck! Sheriff called, said “Boy, sit tight,” Your meemaw’s burnin’ through the night. Tires lit up like Sunday sin, Ran that red light with a whiskey grin. Grandma stole my truck, blastin’ outlaw rock, Screamin’ down Main with a bird in stock. No damn brakes, just grit and luck, She’s the queen of chaos in my pickup truck! Bought some nitro, found a new man, Half her age with a spray-on tan. She hit the border, broke that gate, Yelled “Freedom’s late, but I won’t wait!” She’s got one eye on the road, One on the jar. Cut her off once… You won't get far. Now she's got merch, shirts in a pile, "Meemaw Drags" in redneck style. Wrinkled groupies, wild and mean, She turned that trailer into a dragstrip queen. Grandma stole my truck, moonshine in her cup, Left rubber marks and tore it up. Hit the gas, ain’t givin’ a fxxx— Now the legend rides with a perm and a buck! She outran drones and three state troopers, Flipped ‘em off in her house shoes and supers. Threw a pie at a cop like a hand grenade, Then peeled out screamin’ “I ain't afraid!” She pulled up slow to the old church lot, Gospel crankin’, speakers hot. Tipped her hat to the preacher’s crowd, Then laid a burnout long and loud. “This is unit 69… She just jumped the creek… in reverse. Requestin’ backup… and a priest.” Last I heard… she was racin’ thunder in Arizona. #RedneckRock #SouthernRock #OutlawMusic #TruckSong #MoonshineMusic #FunnyCountry #RockAndRoll #RebelSong #SouthernDrive #FullThrottleGranny #VibeFoundry

"Rollin’ Castle" is a high-energy, humorous redneck rock anthem celebrating the charm of life on wheels. This song tells the tale of an old, battered camper trailer filled with stories of wild road trips, unforgettable parties, and the relentless spirit of freedom. With catchy guitar riffs, harmonica accents, and a dynamic, fun-filled chorus, this track brings to life the adventures and mishaps of a rolling home. Perfect for anyone who cherishes freedom, family, and the open road, it’s a tribute to the joy of living without limits. Lyrics: Rollin’ down the highway, paint peeling off the side, Ain’t a mansion, but it’s my redneck ride. Fridge full of beer, busted AC hums, With a raccoon family under where the water runs. She’s my rusty ol’ home, on wheels that barely turn, Got tales of freedom, and tires that love to burn. Through the storms and sun, she’s my sweet ol’ wreck, A rollin’ redneck castle with a queen-sized deck. Stains on the couch from some party gone wild, Cigarette burns from when we were young and riled. Sticker on the bumper says “Jesus loves trucks,” And the horn plays Dixie, man, it’s pure deluxe. Neighbors call her junk, I call her my throne, They don’t see the magic in a house that roams. Every dent’s a memory, every scratch, a tale, Of whiskey-soaked nights and the cops on our tail. One time in the bayou, she almost caught fire, But a gator and a garden hose saved my retire. From mountain highs to swampy lows she’s been my guide, Through heartbreak and hangovers, always by my side. She’s my rusty ol’ home, on wheels that barely turn, Got tales of freedom, and tires that love to burn. Through the storms and sun, she’s my sweet ol’ wreck, A rollin’ redneck castle with a queen-sized deck. So here’s to the stories, and here’s to the miles, To the busted-up sinks and duct-taped tiles. She ain’t just a camper; she’s family, no doubt, My rollin’ redneck legacy, and I’m never steppin’ out. #RollinCastle #RedneckRock #TrailerLife #AmericanDream #RustyAdventures #CountryVibes #RoadTripAnthem #FreedomOnWheels

Get ready for a wild ride through the glitz and chaos of Las Vegas! "Vegas Took It All" is a Southern Rock anthem filled with humor, energy, and a touch of regret. Follow the tale of a cowboy who loses it all – from his wallet to his boots – in the gambling capital of the world. With honky-tonk vibes, electric guitar riffs, and a playful twist, this track captures the highs and lows of taking risks. Perfect for fans of Southern rock and stories that make you laugh and cringe at the same time. Don’t miss this electrifying tune from VibeFoundry! 🎸 Stream it, love it, and share it! 🎲 Lyrics: It started with a whiskey shot, a spin, and a grin, Felt the rush of Vegas lights pulling me in. The roulette was spinning, my pockets were fat, By the end of the night, they were flat as a mat. Oh Vegas, you devil, you swallowed me whole, Took my money, my truck, even pawned my soul. Thought I'd strike gold, but I rolled the dice, Now I'm walking back home, paying the price. Met a dealer named Sally with a wink in her eye, Said, "Honey, take a chance; you’re on a high." Blackjack hit me harder than a brick to the head, Now I’m betting my boots just to pay for bread. Oh Vegas, you devil, you swallowed me whole, Took my money, my truck, even pawned my soul. Thought I'd strike gold, but I rolled the dice, Now I'm walking back home, paying the price. Now the neon fades, and the laughter dies, Left with a hangover, and my alibis. No cash, no keys, not a penny in sight, Vegas won again in the dead of the night. Called my mama, said, "I’m in a bit of a bind." She said, "Son, you ain’t the first fool Vegas blinds." Learned my lesson with every losing hand, Next time, I’ll gamble in a far safer land. Oh Vegas, you devil, you swallowed me whole, Took my money, my truck, even pawned my soul. Thought I'd strike gold, but I rolled the dice, Now I'm walking back home, paying the price. So here’s my advice for you thrill-seeking fools, Vegas is a school, and it makes its own rules. Pack light, stay smart, and don’t bet the farm, Or you’ll be hitching back home with nothing but charm. #SouthernRock #VegasMusic #HonkyTonk #GamblingStories #CowboyLife #VibeFoundry #VegasTookItAll #HumorousRock #SouthernVibes #RockMusic

Step into the rowdiest bar in the South with "Whiskey War," a high-energy redneck rock anthem about two stubborn legends battling it out in a whiskey-drinking duel. Packed with wild riffs, driving beats, and a hilarious story, this track captures the untamed spirit of Southern pride and reckless fun. Whether you're a whiskey lover or just love a good bar brawl tale, this song is for you. Don't forget to like, share, and subscribe for more rockin' tunes! Lyrics: Joe walked in, his head held high, "I'll outdrink you 'til pigs can fly!" Billy grinned, "You think you're bold? Bet you'll fold before it gets cold!" It's a whiskey war, shots lined up tall, Who’s the last man standin' when the others fall? Drinkin' pride and wagers soar, Joe and Billy in a whiskey war! The first few shots went down real clean, Joe looked tough, Billy turned green. "That all you got? Let’s make it wild!" Billy laughed, "I ain’t no child!" Out came the jar of grandpa’s brew, Joe said, "Taste this, it'll humble you!" Billy chugged, his knees gave way, "I’m still standin’, so let's play!" It's a whiskey war, shots lined up tall, Who’s the last man standin' when the others fall? Drinkin' pride and wagers soar, Joe and Billy in a whiskey war! The bar got loud, the bets piled high, A chicken danced while a goat walked by. Joe called out, "Raise the stakes once more!" Billy groaned, "I’ll own this floor!" They drank so much, the sheriff came, "You boys are drunk, this ain't a game!" Billy fell, Joe hit the ground, The bar erupted with cheering sounds. It's a whiskey war, shots lined up tall, Who’s the last man standin' when the others fall? Drinkin' pride and wagers soar, Joe and Billy in a whiskey war! Now they’re legends, drunk as hell, Their whiskey war, a tale to tell. The bar still laughs at the mess they made, Joe and Billy, forever displayed! #WhiskeyWar #RedneckRock #SouthernRock #BarAnthems #CountryMusic #WhiskeyLovers #DrinkingSongs #RowdyTunes #SouthernPride #VibeFoundry

Welcome to Church of the Carburetor – a full-throttle redneck rock explosion straight outta the scrapyard! Forget priests and pulpits – this southern hymn is all wrenches, exhaust flames, and greasy salvation. With stomping beats, distorted slide guitars, gang shouts, and honky-tonk chaos, this song is a rowdy celebration of freedom, rebellion, and chrome-soaked faith. Crank it up, slam the gas, and praise the holy VIN! Lyrics: Built my church from rust and busted parts, Oiled-up pews and checkered hearts. The preacher’s drunk, the choir’s loud, Revvin’ hymns that shake the clouds! Hallelujah! Praise the carburetor! No priest – just fumes and radiator! Raise your wrenches, light that flame, Salvation’s spelled in a VIN and name! Ten commandments spray-painted on a hood, “Don’t trust hybrids, chrome is good!” Baptized sinners in motor oil, Forgive them Lord, they drive with toil! And I say unto y’all... Let the exhaust rise like incense sweet, Let every burnout be a holy feat! No tithe but tools, no robes, just grime – This gospel burns in overdrive time! Hallelujah! Praise the carburetor! No priest – just fumes and radiator! Rev your sins out, stomp that gas, This redneck church will kick your ass! The EPA tried to shut us down, Called it blasphemy on county ground. But we pray loud with tailpipe fire, And burn their papers on a holy pyre! Choir of mufflers, bless this land, Crank the gospel with greasy hands. A sermon screamed from under a hood, “Oil changes make your soul feel good!” We drink communion from jugs of shine, And pass the socket wrench in line. Confess your sins in burnt-out smoke, This ain't no joke – this faith ain’t broke! Hallelujah! Praise the carburetor! No priest – just fumes and radiator! Roll the windows down and scream, This is redneck’s holy dream! When I die, don’t dig no grave, Just bolt me to that F-150 frame. Let the pipes roar and the moon shine bright, I’ll ride through Heaven every night. #RedneckRock #SouthernRock #TruckLife #JunkyardGospel #OutlawMusic #SlideGuitar #CarburetorChurch #HonkyTonkRebellion #FreedomSoundtrack #RowdyCountry

This song ain't just feathers and clucks — Chicken Coop Blues is a full-blown redneck riot. Built from spit and nails, this coop turned into a warzone with an evil rooster, a thievin' neighbor, and hens demandin' civil rights. Raw guitar riffs, stompin' beats, and gritty vocals tell the story of one man's battle against poultry chaos. Turn it up, and pray your chickens don’t hear it. Join this here channel and get yourself some sweet perks, y'all! 🤠🔥 https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzXB1JeCcAwSAWBsquk7LqQ/join Lyrics: Built that coop with blood and spit, Said “Home sweet home,” but they threw a fit. Smashed the door, broke out fast, Ain’t been peace since the goddamn blast. Chicken Coop Blues, I’m losin’ sleep, Feathers flyin’ knee-fuckin’-deep. Nailed that coop like a badass man, Now I’m bleedin’ out from a five-pound hen. Rooster stalks me like a fed with pride, Eyes like Satan on a joyride. Tried to swing, but he ducked my steel, Crowed so loud, stripped paint off my grill. Chicken Coop Blues, it’s war by dawn, I built a farm, now it’s Vietnam. Fought them bastards tooth and beak, They drew first blood, now I don’t speak. Saw Earl next door with my prize red hen, Laughin’ like pigs rollin' in sin. Said “Ain’t my fault, she came for corn,” So I dropped that rat with a rusted horn. Laid a trap, some nails and wire, Caught that bastard crawlin’ through the fire. Told him “Next time you want fried meat— Try buyin’ wings, not fuckin’ cheat.” Chicken Coop Blues, I’m takin’ charge, Mounted guns and a rooster sarge. They tried to vote, I said “Hell no!” This ain’t no farm, it’s a redneck show. Now I drink in boots and camo plates, Barricades set at all damn gates. Said “We want rights!” – chicks held signs, Tried to storm my porch, crossed my lines. So don’t you build no chicken throne, Unless you’re down to lose your home. You think it’s cute till you get the news— You’re six feet deep with Chicken Coop Blues. #ChickenCoopBlues #RedneckRock #SouthernRock #FunnyCountrySong #RedneckLife #AIgeneratedMusic #VibeFoundry #BackyardWar #RoosterAttack #OutlawCountry

Bobby Ray had dreams bigger than his jeans — but he never lifted a damn finger. "Built to Lose" tells the hilarious and raw story of a lazy man who talked big but sat even bigger. Like most of our songs, it’s inspired by real folks we’ve known, the kind you find sittin’ on porches talkin’ 'bout dreams while you’re out there bustin’ your ass. Bobby Ray might be a joke now, but every small town’s got one just like him. Shot across dusty backroads, muddy fields, and rundown bars, this redneck rock track is for every hardworking soul who's had to carry the weight of guys like Bobby Ray. Crank it up, grab a cold one, and leave the lazy asses behind! Lyrics: Bobby Ray had dreams bigger than his jeans, Talked a big game, but it was all damn dreams, "Boy never swung a hammer, but he swore he'd build a castle," Sittin' on his porch, drinkin' beer, blowin’ hassle. Ain't my job to save your lazy ass, Bobby Ray, You sat back drinkin' while we paved the way, Cry all you want, you made your mess, Ain't my job to save your lazy ass! Told him straight, "Get your boots in the mud," But he'd rather sit back, smokin' cheap bud, "Said he had a plan, just needed some time..." Now he’s flat broke, starin’ at the county line. Ain't my job to save your lazy ass, Bobby Ray, You sat back drinkin' while we paved the way, Cry all you want, you made your mess, Ain't my job to save your lazy ass! Called me up, sobbin' in his rusty truck, Cryin’ 'bout life like he ran outta luck, "Told him, hell boy, luck's for fools," You bet your ass and you lost your tools. Can't ride high when you’re scared to steer, Can't chase dreams drownin' in beer. Bobby still jawin' 'bout who owes him what, Still ain't earned a dime, still stuck in the rut, "Different day, same sad-ass song," We build somethin’, he just tags along. Ain't my job to save your lazy ass, Bobby Ray, You sat back drinkin' while we paved the way, Cry all you want, you made your mess, Ain't my job to save your lazy ass! Now Bobby’s just a joke down at Joe’s Bar, Ain't moved an inch, still dreamin’ too far, "Raise your glass, here’s to the brave," Leave Bobby Ray in his sorry grave. Ain't my job... To save... Your lazy ass. #RedneckRock #SouthernRock #LazyLife #BuiltToLose #CountryRock #BobbyRay #SouthernPride #BlueCollarLife #Backroads #BeerAndDreams #HardLiving #SmallTownDreams #TrailerParkLife #MudAndGuts #RedneckHumor #OutlawSpirit #CountryLife #Backwoods #BrokeDreams #DirtRoadKings #VibeFoundry