capo 3 

A G D x2 
  A 
I grew up here where there aint much blacktop, 
G                     D 
The headlights on the interstate dont stop. 
A 
Any man worth his weight plows a straight row, 
G                        D 
And all the money is the grain in the silo. 

A 
Theres just enough home grown pretty girls, 
G                          D 
Growin up around here that like to sip cold beer. 
A 
Its a blink and you miss it kinda town, 
G*                                
The kind of place that makes the world go round. 

A 
My wheels have rolled all this red dirt,  
G                 D 
My hands have got scars from the hard work. 
A 
Me and my friends unwind on the outskirts, 
G                       D 
Our Friday nights might get a little black and blue. 

A 
Im out here ridin high on a lift kit, 
G                         D 
I see the world through a crack where a rock hit. 
A 
I am who I am, I do what I do, 
G*                    D* 
Lookin at life from a broken windshield view. 

A G D 

A 
A truck beds got a half roll of barbed wire, 
G                   D 
A bail of hay and a patched up spare tire. 
A 
Cross on a chain hangin from a rear view, 
G                D 
Fifth in a brown paper sack packing 80 proof. 

A 
A sun droppin off into that cornfield, 
G                     D 
Thunderhead lightning comin right behind it. 
A 
These two lane roads aint paved in gold, 
G*             
Man flying gravels all I know. 

A 
My wheels have rolled all this red dirt,  
G                 D 
My hands have got scars from the hard work. 
A 
Me and my friends unwind on the outskirts, 
G                       D 
Our Friday nights might get a little black and blue. 

A 
Im out here ridin high on a lift kit, 
G                         D 
I see the world through a crack where a rock hit. 
A 
I am who I am, I do what I do, 
G                     D 
Lookin at life from a broken windshield view. 

A  G    D 
  Yeah, cmon 

A G D 

     A 
Yeah its just a blink and you miss it kind of town, 
G*                               D* 
The kind of place that makes the world go round. 

A 
My wheels have rolled all this red dirt,  
G                 D 
My hands have got scars from the hard work. 
A 
Me and my friends unwind on the outskirts, 
G                       D 
Our Friday nights might get a little black and blue. 

A 
Im out here ridin high on a lift kit, 
G                         D 
I see the world through a crack where a rock hit. 
A 
I am who I am, I do what I do, 
G                     D 
Lookin at life from a broken windshield view. 
A 
I am who I am, I do what I do, 
G*                    D* 
Lookin at life from a broken windshield view. 
A G       D 
    From a broken windshield view 
A G D 
  Yeah 
A G D 

* = Strum Once