INTRO 
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 You know Tommy gonna trick his truck, jack it up big time,
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 Lift kit, chrome tips, spit shinin like a diamond.
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 Game changed and the rain came and we took it down a back road.
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 Georgia clay mudhole, that's how these boys roll
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 Now it's late night underneath the moonlight.
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 Errybody's feelin right, sippin on a bud light.
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 Go on drop yo' tailgate, turn up your radio.
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 I'm a build a bonfire, you can make yourself at home
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 Kick back, relax, you know we're just a bunch o' hillbillies
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 Tip back a cup a' Jack and throw your hands up with me.
Chorus
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 Hey, we might look a little crazy tonight, hey baby that's alright,
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 It's our backwoods, boondock roots, it's just what we do.
 It's just what we do.
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 Hey, ain't no way to make this up, when it's runnin through your blood,
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 There ain't no hidin the truth, it's just what we do.
 It's just what we do.
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 Yeah, it's just what we do
[Verse 2:]
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 You see Tommy called Jeanie and Jeanie gon' call the hotties, tell em bout the party,
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 So don't forget the Bacardi.
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 Time to get your buzz on and your love on, all night long,
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 And if you play your hand right, you won't have to go home alone. 
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 Six string pickin, solo cup sippin, and when the moments right, grab ya phone and get them digits,
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 Crankin that Bocephus, we all good with Jesus.
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 Come Sunday morning that preacher, he bout to preach it
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 Kick back, relax and pass the good time moonshine.
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 Who brought the party? Damn, that was Florida Georgia Line.
CHORUS X3