Dirt Road Anthem Songtext
von Brantley Gilbert

Yeah I′m chillin' on a dirt road

Smoke rollin′ out the window
An ice cold beer sittin' in the console
Memory lane up in the headlights
Got me reminiscing on the good times
Said I'm turnin′ off the real life drive and that′s right
Hittin' easy street on mud tires
Back in the day Potts′ farm was the place to go

Load the truck up, hit the dirt road


Light the bonfire, then call the girls
Jack and Jim were a few good men
Where we learned how to kiss and cuss and fight too
Better watch out for the boys in blue
And all this small town he said, she said
Ain't it funny how rumors spread
Like I know somethin ya′ll dont know
Man, this shit is gettin old
Man, mind your business, watch your mouth
Before I have to knock your loud ass out
I'm tired of talkin′, ya'll ain't listenin′
Them old dirt road is what ya′ll missing
Yeah I'm chillin′ on a dirt road

Laid back swervin' like I′m George Jones
Smoke rollin' out the window

An ice cold beer sittin′ in the console
It's got me reminiscing on the good times
Said I'm turnin′ off the real life drive and that′s right
I sit back and think about them good ole days

The way we were raised in our Southern ways
We like corn bread and biscuits
And if its broke round here, we fix it

See I can take ya'll where you need to go
Down to my hood, back in them woods
But we sure do it good and we do it all night
So if you really wanna know how it feels
To get off the road and truck with four wheels
That we′ll be raisin Hell where the blacktop ends
Chillin' on a dirt road


Laid back swervin′ like I'm George Jones
Smoke rollin′ out the window
An ice cold beer sittin in the console
Memory lane up in the headlights

Got me reminiscing on the good times
Said I'm turnin' off the real life drive and that′s right
Hittin′ easy street on mud tires

I was brought up in a small town in North Georgia
Raised on Southern Baptist morals
In a front row pew for the Sunday roll call
Everybody praise the Lord y'all

Bust a 12 gauge, pump and not miss
And life without work, that′s just a myth
Never listen when they talkin' shit
My dad taught me how to stand my ground
Don′t start up something but if he's talking trash
You better throw the first punch and whip his ass
Now be somebody, make a name for yourself
Life′s hard, you go through Hell
There comes a time when you've got to slow down

We're chillin′ on a dirt road
Laid back swervin′ like I'm George Jones