Hell Yeah - Intellectual

[Intro]

What these boys want

(What these boys want)

You want my fan base don't ya

(You want my fan base don't ya)

Hahahaha

[Verse 1]

I'm the truth big dawg, what you starin' at bubba?

Yeah ,I ram this genre like I couldn't wait for rubbers

Now everybody grabbin', tryin' to ask a bunch of questions

When I did the same thing they said your boy wasn't impressive

Now my pocket's full of money and I'm tryin' to dodge the sheriff

Yeah, I'll make a million songs but I don't care if y'all don't hear 'em

Will recognize his self like it's lookin' in the mirror

Yeah, I burn like liquor, hot as old mineral spirits

Music Row tried to ban me 'cause mama raised a rebel

Pop the clutch, hit the pedal, comin' down with all this metal

Yeah, I'm talkin' guns bubba, when I mean that I got several

Southern boy, Christian raised, and I don't make deals with devils

[Chorus]

I'm a Dixieland outlaw, rebel-born rule-breaker

Z71 drivin', ass kickin' name taker

Lovin' where I'm at, give a damn about a Hollywood

I do it for the sticks and keep it real like everybody should

So if you own a gun say "Hell yeah"

If your neck sunburnt say "Hell yeah"

If your truck got dents say "Hell yeah"

And if you redneck legit say "Hell yeah"

[Verse 2]

Shit, I'm a star, 50 more in the back of my truck

13 stripes baby, and they fly as fuck

Hear that true dual pop while I'm bangin' Kid Rock

American made in Tennessee by the grace of God

And I'm a Chris Kyle t-shirt wearing sum bitch

And how dare a little hussie try to take my shit

I'm that redneck baby sittin' on my throne

A hundred dollar bill smellin' like a Auto Zone

Shit fire, cookin' steaks I'm steady pissin' while the wind blows

All I do is keep it real on hooks like a fishin' pole

Six string pickin' while my six gun loaded

Shit it's Mr. Cheatham County, bitch, and everybody knows it boy