Red Neck Nation - Red Dirt Rebels -

Dust flies... Engines rise... Let's ride! Red clay boots on a gravel road, Rusty Chevy, heavy load. Old dog riding, shotgun side, A rebel heart I never hide. Small town talks, they know my name, Still too wild to ever change. Smoke and thunder, Friday night, We were born to live this life. No suit... No tie... Just gasoline... And southern pride... WE'RE RED DIRT REBELS! BORN TO RAISE SOME HELL! FROM THE BACKWOOD HOLLERS TO THE COUNTY LINE WE RIDE! RED DIRT REBELS! NEVER GONNA KNEEL! WE'LL DIE WITH MUD ON THESE OLD WORN WHEELS! Bonfire burns beside the creek, Cold beer running all week. Steel guitar and loud V8s, Living life without the brakes. Mama prayed I'd settle down, Guess that never came around. This old road is all I need, Freedom is my only creed. No chains... No fear... Turn it up... Another gear... WE'RE RED DIRT REBELS! BORN TO RAISE SOME HELL! FROM THE BACKWOOD HOLLERS TO THE COUNTY LINE WE RIDE! RED DIRT REBELS! NEVER GONNA KNEEL! WE'LL DIE WITH MUD ON THESE OLD WORN WHEELS! RED DIRT REBELS! LET THE ENGINES ROAR! RED DIRT REBELS! WE KEEP COMING BACK FOR MORE! RED DIRT REBELS! UNTIL THE DAY WE DIE! UNDER SOUTHERN STARS... WE RIDE!