Hey, mister city man

Rollie on your wrist, nasdaq in your hand

Rollin' your eyes at my beat-up truck

Feed in the back, spittin' in my cup.

Both our tags say tennessee

I don't know you, I know you don't know me

But if this red light didn't have to change

I'd have time to say.

When you die, I hope you come back as a redneck

I hope it sticks on you like a hell-hot sun tattoo

I hope you break your back for that barely-get-by paycheck

And when you can't, you gotta go and bloody up a buck or two

Catch the holy ghost on a pinewood bench

Drive across the county just to hook up a winch

Revel in the pride of a simple man

Maybe then you'll understand

Oh...

I didn't choose my raisin' and you didn't choose yours

You work in four walls and I'm workin' four-by-fours

We ain't as different as you think we is, but I didn't pull up sayin'

"Won't you look at that born rich, fed with a silver spoon, trust fund kid," like you did.

So when you die, I hope you come back as a redneck

I hope it sticks on you like a hell-hot sun tattoo

I hope you break your back for that barely-get-by paycheck

And when you can't, you gotta go and bloody up a buck or two

Catch the holy ghost on a pinewood bench

Drive across the county just to hook up a winch

Revel in the pride of a simple man

Maybe then you'll understand.

Why we say grace, why we hold hands

Keep a shotgun right by the nightstand

And why we love a good rain comin' down

And never leave these so-called backward, backwood, good-for-nothing, hillbilly hick towns.

So when you die, I hope you come back as a redneck

I hope it sticks on you like a hell-hot sun tattoo

I hope you break your back for that barely-get-by paycheck

And when you can't, you gotta go and bloody up a buck or two, yes, you do

Catch the holy ghost on a pinewood bench

Drive across the county just to hook up a winch

Revel in the pride of a simple man

Maybe then you'll understand

Oh...

Yeah, then you'll understand.