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She's pony-tailed an' she's halter topped |
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Her bumper-sticker says, "I hate hip-hop" |
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With a southern drawl, she says, "Howdy, y'all" |
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And her hands ain't afraid of dirt |
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He's proud of his old truck |
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He spray painted over dents and rust |
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The motor smokes, it's got four bald tires |
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But the radio works |
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Raised on the |
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Good Book and our country songs |
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Ridin' down back roads singin' along |
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So blame me for the way they are |
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Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar |
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Blame me for their cowboy hats |
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Roper boots, |
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Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks |
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If you wanna point a finger at somebody |
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For the way they've been led |
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Blame meThey were kids when |
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Hag and me came to town |
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All eyes and ears, look at 'em now |
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Center stage on the |
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Grand Ole |
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OpryOn a Saturday night |
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And sing of fishin' and the |
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Lord above |
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Fallin' in and out of love |
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From Aunt |
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Bea to Uncle |
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SamAnd that |
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American Pie |
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From big cities to the little towns |
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Were hard-core country inside and out |
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So blame me for the way they are |
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Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar |
|
Blame me for their cowboy hats |
|
Roper boots, |
|
Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks |
|
If you wanna point a finger at somebody |
|
For the way they've been led |
|
Blame meBlame me for the way they are |
|
Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar |
|
Blame me for their cowboy hats |
|
Roper boots, |
|
Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks |
|
If you wanna point a finger at somebody |
|
For the way they've been led |
|
Blame meBlame me |
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Blame me, yeah |