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California Grown
par
Tyler Rich
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Letra
Friday night, strings tuned just right On a stage under some cheap neon lights Thirty-five of my best friends in the crowd At that Town Pump where I was playing when I was just nineteen and my friends couldn't get in But you sure as hell know we were sneakin' through the back door I've played forty-six out of fifty states For the last ten years trying to find my way But every time I leave I just wanna come back home I'm California grown Yeah we spend our weekdays with dirt on our hands Weekends with our toes in the sand Shootin' whiskеy on a Friday night But Saturday we're sippin' Margaritas in the daylight Sunday whеn the service ends Hop in the truck throw the boat on a hitch Pullin' Tracy over six-foot waves Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake Just me and the boys doin' all we know Yeah, there's nothing quite like this place that I call home I'm California grown Yeah, I'm California grown You might think you know about this place and say "There ain't nothin' country 'bout the Golden State It's just palm trees, beaches, and celebrities" (California love) Well, have you ever heard about that Bakersfield Sound? Owens and Haggard used to run that town You go two hours north of the Hollywood sign You'll find farmlands, miles wide Weekdays with dirt on our hands Weekends with our toes in the sand Shootin' whiskey on a Friday night But Saturday we're sippin' Margaritas in the daylight Sunday when the service ends Hop in the truck throw the boat on a hitch Pullin' Tracy over six-foot waves Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake Just me and the boys doin' all we know Yeah, there's nothing quite like this place that I call home I'm California grown Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy Yeah, we're California grown Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy Yeah, from Santa Rosa all the way to LA From San Diego to the San Fran Bay Well, you can find me in the Sacramento Valley Probably shootin' sh*t with Mr. Jon Pardi Chorus] Weekdays with dirt on our hands Weekends with our toes in the sand Shootin' whiskey on a Friday night But Saturday we're sippin' Margaritas in the daylight Sunday when the service ends Hop in the truck throw the boat on a hitch Pullin' Tracy over six-foot waves Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake Just me and the boys doin' all we know Yeah, there's nothing quite like this place that I call home I'm California grown Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy California grown Oh-oh, yeah-ayy, yeah-ayy California grown
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