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    Fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty

    When you came rollin' round, loud and proud
    With your boys talkin' about all that city slang
    Act like we don’t know a thing
    Just like we’re some backwoods rejects
    Barely write a bad check
    Bass fishin', cousin kissin'
    Nothin' but a bunch of rednecks
    I’m about to let you know, son
    We was raised on them shotguns
    And none of us ever gonna back down
    We’re proud of bein' small town
    Better listen to me close before you keep runnin' that lip
    'Cause there’s a fifty-fifty chance
    That you might get your ass whipped

    Continúa después del anuncio

    Fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty

    Let me tell you how it’s goin' down, all up in here
    Everybody know just who you is
    Momma, daddy and your kids
    Seen you at the Walmart
    Caught you over about the Dairy Queen
    Called your wife 'bout an hour ago
    Said you was at the bar with Jolene
    Now you’re talkin' crazy talk son
    Drunk as hell, hardly walk, son
    Tellin' us you the big cheese
    Momma gonna knock you to your knees
    If you go home and tell that country girl that bullshit
    There’s a fifty-fifty chance that you might get your ass whipped

    Fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, yeah fifty-fifty
    Fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, fifty-fifty, yeah fifty-fifty

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Craig Wisman y Jason Farris Brown

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