Lyrics Country Stuff by Jake Owen

I tell you ready [?] what I do
I'll tell you what I do, I'd put right here, I'd put

I like beers cheap and cold, I like chairs that rock and fold
I like long cut wintergreen [?] and Redman's what I chew (Yeah, that's all, woo)
I got a yard full of car parts in it, I can dress you a hog in a minute
Yeah, my number one amendment (Which one?), is gonna have to be number two 'cause (Haha)

I like shooting ducks and bucks (Hey)
I like mud tires on my truck (Hey)
I like old blue jeans, guitar strings, and dirt roads (Everybody loves the dirt roads), you know?
I like girls that like the woods
I like kissing 'em on the hood
I likе green tractors, Dukes of Hazzard and grits (Yeah)
You know (Herе we go), country stuff

Country stuff, country stuff
I like country stuff
Country stuff, country stuff
I like country stuff (Hey)

I sip whiskey from the handle (Handle), I got dogs named Jack and Daniel
Yeah, my favorite shirts are flannel (Me too, baby), and I tear up some turnip greens (Ayy)
Now taxidermy, that's art, favorite movie, you serious, Clark? (Relax)
You know I love fishing in the dark (Yeah), the song and the real thing (Here we go)

I like shooting ducks and bucks (Hey)
I like mud tires on my truck (Hey)
I like old blue jeans, guitar strings, and dirt roads (Everybody loves the dirt roads), you know?
I like girls that like the woods
I like kissing 'em on the hood
I like green tractors, Dukes of Hazzard and grits (Yeah)
You know (Here we go), country stuff

Country stuff, country stuff
I like country stuff
Country stuff, country stuff
I like country stuff

Yeah, I'm talking 'bout tin roof rains, front porch swings
Back door, front door, both got screens
Calling turkeys, beef j*rky, sweet tea, y'all, it's all good

I like shooting ducks and bucks
I like mud tires on my truck
I like old blue jeans, guitar strings, and dirt roads (Everybody loves the dirt roads), you know?
I like girls that like the woods
I like kissing 'em on the hood
I like green tractors, Dukes of Hazzard and grits
You know, country stuff

Walker, grits, does not rhyme with stuff
Well, man I'm just tryna feed the kids
Just say it, man, just say what it is, you can s**t
Can't say that on the radio
Here it was/You're the worst, man