Lyrics
Everything we do, we do it out back
Backyard half-charred ribs on a rack
Back-road running, getting dirty on the track
Backwoods gunning, hitting birdies by the pack
Everywhere we go, we go to the back
Backyard bars serving jars full of batch
Back under the moon with the tailgate back
In the back of the saloon, where the jukebox sat
Outback, where the forest is thick
There's a circle in the middle of a field where a bonfire's lit
Cup full of shine, Copenhagen in my lip
Now I'm dipping sideways, probably wake up in a ditch
So crank that music into the night
And crack that beer and raise it high
Stacked little blonde want a midnight ride
Take her back to the country for a real good time (yeah)
Everything we do, we do it out back
Backyard half-charred ribs on a rack
Back-road running, getting dirty on the track
Backwoods gunning, hitting birdies by the pack
Everywhere we go, we go to the back
Backyard bars serving jars full of batch
Back under the moon with the tailgate back
In the back of the saloon, where the jukebox sat
Got me stepping in manure every time I spit shit
Feel like Cash in the photo with the bird getting flipped
Came from the bottom, so they label me a catfish
Worldwide, better grab you an Atlas
Bonfire lit like Willie, let's smoke
Rack full of ribs in a smoker full of oak
Blackberry brandy off back in the duck blind
Black Lab running got hunting in his bloodline
Came from out back, but I'm back in the lead (yeah)
Back like a rack full of fat double D's (yeah)
Back with a barrel on a rack, let me squeeze (yeah)
Back on the trigger, hit her right between the knees (ooh)
Back with the tow strap, I pull 'em real heavy
Ladies getting dirty out back on the Chevy
Dive-bar beauty queen, bubba call 'em Betties
Pedal to the metal, baby girl, I'm ready
Everything we do, we do it out back
Backyard half-charred ribs on a rack
Back-road running, getting dirty on the track
Backwoods gunning, hitting birdies by the pack
Everywhere we go, we go to the back
Backyard bars serving jars full of batch
Back under the moon with the tailgate back
In the back of the saloon, where the jukebox sat
Tell 'em, 'bout to burn a pile, hound dog, me and my honey
We can run a game of shoes, we can lose a little money
Might talk a little smack after a sip of that Jack
Bunch of jacked-up trucks all parked 'round back (yeah)
Get loose like ya do it up in Cali
Ol' shine so smooth, like ya cruisin' in a Caddy
Then we rolled ourself a fatty, went around to the shed
I had to back up off it, it was buzzin' my head
See, I'm back in the Mac, I'm in the back with The Lacs
Get on these bachelor sacs, know how them hecklers act
See, I'm partying to death with Bacardi on my breath
I'm thinkin' naughty to myself about this shawty on my left
Yeah, we still out back, it's the country outcasts
Thinkin' you can out-rap? Yeah, bitch, I doubt that
Meet us all out back and we'll whoop that loud ass
'Cause we're bringin' country back quicker than a snapback
Everything we do, we do it out back
Backyard half-charred ribs on a rack
Back-road running, getting dirty on the track
Backwoods gunning, hitting birdies by the pack
Everywhere we go, we go to the back
Backyard bars serving jars full of batch
Back under the moon with the tailgate back
In the back of the saloon, where the jukebox sat
Everything we do, we do it out back
Backyard half-charred ribs on a rack
Back-road running, getting dirty on the track
Backwoods gunning, hitting birdies by the pack
Everywhere we go, we go to the back
Backyard bars serving jars full of batch
Back under the moon with the tailgate back
In the back of the saloon, where the jukebox sat