Tennessee Trash Disclosure

I'm the type of man who likes a woman full of gin, with a bow to her fiddle and a fiddle to her chin
Standing on the stage in some black leather pants, soaring away into a syncopated trance
Heavy on the cutting down, smoother on the ride, faster through the turnaround, good and chicken fried
Smiling like a banshee, pointing toward the south, sweeter than a hunk of pure honey in your mouth
I'm the type of man who likes to take it out west, dump it in, pump it out and get it off my chest
Fire it up, smoke it down, stick it in the wind, choke it back, sweep it out, dial it up again
Hey, Mr. Money Man, peel some of Uncle Ben's, place them in my hand so I can pay for all my sins
The rent's coming due toward the middle of the month, and I need a fair shake to keep a dog in this hunt
I'm a stumptown cocksure, field-stripped country boy
A no account lush with a monkey-love crush on a girl from northern Illinois
I'm a pure-souled, slow-rolled, elderberry-corn-fed smash
I'm a new breed of hayseed, come to town and never be a piece of little Tennessee trash
So let it be known in a matter-of-fact way, I'm the last freak in Goose Creek to bail a little hay
Shine a tractor light on the row up ahead, knock it down, turn it 'round, plant it in a bed
Good God, fresh sun, fish it right up, give me fire on my mountain, they'll be shine in your cup
Careful not the share or underestimate me too or I'll buy your pension boy and sell it back to you
I'm a stumptown cocksure, field stripped country boy
A no account lush with a monkey-love crush on a girl from northern Illinois
I'm a pure-souled, slow-rolled, elderberry-corn-fed smash
I'm a new breed of hayseed, come to town and never be a piece of little Tennessee trash
I'm a new breed of hayseed, come to town and never be a piece of little Tennessee trash
Come to town and never be a piece of little Tennessee trash