Текст Demun Jones – Give’em Hell

Once again
It’s your buddy Demun Jones
I got them Lac boys with me
And I brought my brother Danny Boone

We give ’em hell, hubs locked, subs knock
We give ’em hell, gun cocked, shell shocked
We give ’em hell, rock show, got dough
A long bed truck load, now everybody knows
We give ’em hell

Rumble, ramble through the brush and bramble
Bribes draw blood but nothin’ I can’t handle
Engine on the rig like garglin’ gravel
Beam through the trees, cut through the shadow
When I ride I’m rollin’ high in the saddle
Long road flowing around when I travel
Straight through the creek, pen with a paddle
One part rust, one part moss
Covered in dirt, one hundred percent boss
Came up rough, you best go raw
Indian pottery and musket balls
So trust D Jones came to bust
Shots if I must, nothin’ to discuss
Lawman about it, hush the fuss
If not then it’s gonna be a ruckus what

We give ’em hell, hubs locked, subs knock
We give ’em hell, gun cocked, shell shocked

Introducing from the great state of Georgia
The Loud Ass Crackers

Sittin’ real high like a redneck boss
Girls climb up and the tops come off
Y’all know me we give ’em hell
When the law come up I’m ’bout to bail
We drankin’, muddin, chillin, ridin’
Get on down just how we like it
Old Lac boys in the mud again
Heard of Kickin’ Up Mud where they hell y’all been
The muddy sacks is motivatin’, get your ass off the interstate
Jack it up or pack it up, we ain’t come here to hesitate
Get it in this hole or hit the road, country boys don’t back down
And if you got to back it up, take your city ass on back to town

We give ’em hell, hubs locked, subs knock
We give ’em hell, gun cocked, shell shocked
We give ’em hell, rock show, got dough
A long bed truck load, now everybody knows
We give ’em hell

Muddy, muddy, muddy, muddy
Muddy, muddy, muddy, muddy
Muddy, muddy, muddy, muddy
Muddy, muddy, muddy, muddy
Muddy, muddy, muddy, muddy
Mu-mu-mu-mu-mu-mu we give ’em hell

For now I’m gonna settle set up camp in the prairie
Build me a fire and let the smoke carry
On, feel the thicket crickets singin’ that song
Got D Jones pickin’ nothin’ wrong
I’ma sit here and kick it ’til dawn
Got my Bluetooth and my iPhone
Lookin’ up at the stars, might take a little rest
But tomorrow do my best
To give it hell
To give it hell
To give it hell
To give it hell
To give it hell
To give it hell
To give it hell
To give it hell
To give it hell