What I Claim Songtext
von Upchurch

I ain′t the best singer or the best lookin'
I ain′t got a plan to make people listen to me
Ain't no designer tellin' me what to wear
I hit Tractor Supply and get six of the same pair

My claim to fame is a story in a page
Marijuana and some thoughts written down to explain
From a day I lived and turned into a song
As I sat on a porch, gettin′ stoned at my farm

29 years old, out livin′ in a dream
Big fancy tour bus and millions of streams
But I'm still in muddy water, way more than waist-deep
I love my upbringin′ and I ain't ashamed

That I claim the rednecks
In every, "Where is that?" town on the map
And I claim the rebel flags
Flyin′ high off a young man's Scottsdale cab


And I claim every good ol′ boy
With homemade tattoos that he's still proud of
It ain't how I dress, nah, it ain′t how I sing
It′s how I tell 'em what I claim

There′ll never be another Johnny Cash
But I feel like him when I'm pissed-off mad
In one of my muscle cars, goin′ way too fast
Not worried if a deer even kills my ass

Then after a few miles, I quit bein' so wreckless
Light me up a roach while I′m listenin' to Elvis
Like a hound dog hangin' out the window
Still holdin′ my soul ′cause the devil can't get it

Yeah, music ain′t money 'round here, no sir
It′s the blood in our veins and a flag on the porch
Red with a blue circle, holdin' three bright stars
In the 615, ask who we are

They′ll say we claim the rednecks
In every, "Where is that?" town on the map
Yeah, we claim the rebel flags
Flyin' high off a young man's Scottsdale cab


And we claim every good ol′ boy
With homemade tattoos that he′s still proud of
Yeah, it ain't how we dress, and it ain′t how we sing
It's how we tell ′em what we claim
And, hell nah, we ain't ashamed

Hopefully, one day, long from now
Way in the future, when I′m underground
A rebel child will discover the sound
Of a Nashville-born, redneck loud-mouth

And say that he claimed rednecks
In every, "Where is that?" town on the map
Yeah, he claimed the rebel flags
Flyin' high off his truck and he didn't get scared

And he claimed every good ol′ boy
With homemade tattoos like he had on his arm
Yeah, it ain′t how he dressed, and it ain't how he sang
It′s how he told 'em what he claimed

Still ain′t ashamed, motherfucker