Brantley Gilbert
Son Of The Dirty South
[Intro: Brantley Gilbert]
Tatted-up
I’m gassed up
I’m throwed off and I’m buck wild
Loud and rowdy
I’m a son of the dirty south

[Verse 1: Jelly Roll]
This that southern playalistic Willie smokin’, whiskey sippin’
Southern like my momma’s kitchen
Gravy biscuits, fried chicken, backroads, I’m still tippin’
Wood wheel, I’m still grippin’
Stand strong, no ass kissin’
Ol’ school ass whippin’
Come from the bottom nothin’ is a problem
Say get ‘em, I got ‘em, I promise
My roots are blue-collar
Them boys from the holler
Do anything that they can just for a dollar
Pit bulls in the yard
Broken down cars
I’m like fuck it, I’m high
I pull up trailer park pimpin’
With a double-wide dime

[Chorus: Brantley Gilbert]
‘Cause I’m a son of the dirty south
Got to trippin’
Mama washin’
Out my dirty mouth
And pickin’ switches
I’m a hell raisin’ rebel
That you better never trеad on
Gun-totin’ drinkin’ smokin’
Hoss that you can bet on
Tatted-up I’m gassed up I’m throwеd off and I’m buck wild
Loud and rowdy
I’m a son of the dirty south
Loud and rowdy
I’m a son of the dirty south

[Verse 2: Jelly Roll]
I’m from a place where they mix rock, county, and hip-hop
Somewhere between Hank, Three 6, and Kid Rock, Johnny Cash all black
It’s that old-school flavor
Sippin’ something
Rippin’ more lines than notebook paper
Outlaw spirit
My middle finger stuck up again
Bad boy
We all know good women love troubled men
Got that music cranked loud
We won’t turn shit down
Peaceful people but believe it, we gon’ burn shit down

[Chorus: Brantley Gilbert]
Oh, I’m a son of the dirty south
Got to trippin’
Mama washin’
Out my dirty mouth
And pickin’ switches
I’m a hell raisin’ rebel that you better never tread on
Gun-totin’, drinkin’, smokin’ hoss that you can bet on
Tatted-up I’m gassed up I’m throwed off and I’m buck wild
Loud and rowdy
I’m a son of the dirty south
[Bridge: Brantley Gilbert]
You know some folks won’t change
We stand for the flag and kneel to pray
It’s the land of the free because of the brave
From the cradle to the grave
We were made in the USA

[Chorus: Brantley Gilbert]
I’m a son of the dirty south
Got to trippin’
Mama washin’
Out my dirty mouth
And pickin’ switches
I’m a hell raisin’ rebel that you better never tread on
Gun-totin’, drinkin’, smokin’ hoss that you can bet on
Tatted-up I’m gassed up I’m throwed off and I’m buck wild
Loud and rowdy
I’m a son of the dirty south

Loud and rowdy
I’m a son of the dirty south
Loud and rowdy
I’m a son of the dirty south