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