Demun Jones - Georgia Boy Fresh lyrics

Me and my body spent thousands on raising these rides Spent a few more thousands on the speakers inside I wanted a paint job but rapped it in mate black Decided I want it camouflaged and took it right back I’m bumping Jones county and it’s loud and clear Now you can’t see me coming but you can damn sure hear There’s plenty of room to recline in my crew max Cowboy leather seats and titanium packed Now that’s 50 on the truck, customize another 50 [?] could have bought her bid me Now you can tell a county boy ain’t scared to drop a stack Rednecks blowing paychecks to be exact, uh G-G-Goergia boy fresh We ain’t playing withchya We ain’t playing withchya To all the redneck women that bathing in mud Ain’t nothing hotter than a country girl that don’t give a what And they come in every size, triple X to [?] But every girl looks better in a rebel flag bikini You think she’s hot, now wait till you see her drive a doolie With a 12 pack of honeys in the bed [?] Jacuzzi Complete with LED that turn purple and blue The colors move with the music and the girls do too Now they all getting drunk, drinking straight out of a picture cone [?] shake it like a polaroid picture maker Hillbilly drew like he’s in the first grade now Everybody’s following, they started a parade, uh G-G-Goergia boy fresh We ain’t playing withchya We ain’t playing withchya And if you think it’s silly for country boys to bust wide Don’t you take a trip on down to mount [?] Crawling rock in the [?] Instead of judging covers of books, come experience it Don’t let the flags scare ya, we won’t hurt a fly But threaten the wife and kids then you gotta die, yeah Family comes first, we consider God our member That’s why we decorate a tree right around December, uh G-G-Goergia boy fresh We ain’t playing withchya We ain’t playing withchya Catch on delivery, don’t write me a check If Demun don’t get dollars he ain’t rocking a set And I ain’t with the merch cut unless you told her to count it And fitting in the paper work, don’t ask me about it If your drunk buddy’s thinking bout grabbing a shirt Tell him check my track record, merch snatchers get hurt Pretty sore grill scattered over the map And I ain’t even tryna brag, that there’s a fact But I don’t want trouble, I’m just tryna sing And let the world know how a county boy does his thing Take care of my girls, make mom and dad proud Hit the stage like a beast and the crowd screams loud G-G-Goergia boy fresh We ain’t playing withchya We ain’t playing withchya