this is the whole song these five chords same pattern throughout 
INTRO D Am F G D 

D               Am      
Country fried, baptized in gravy
F        G                      D
Can't wash off what the good Lord made ya
D               Am      
No matter how far that highway goes
F        G                      D
An old dirt road'll get you home (c'mon!)
D               Am      
If you see it in their eye when they try to lie
F        G                      D
If you the bullet-hole-in-a-stop-sign kind
D               Am
Then I'm right there wit'cha, put your drinks up high
F        G                      D
For my country folk (hey) my country folk (hey)

VERSE 
D               Am
I'm out here on a thousand acre plot of land
F        G                      D
And I can't hear 'em hatin on me, I'm a modest man
D               Am
Talkin with Jimmy Mathis and he got a plan
F        G                      D
And when he talk I listen to him, that's a lot of man (pops!)
D               Am
He said we need to take it back to the root of it
F        G                      D
I put on for the country, that's the truth of it

I'm talkin last millenium we was reppin it
Before anybody had accepted it (anybody!)
We introduced 'em to the cooler on the tailgate
Full of cold Nattie Light playin "Satellite"
A lil' Dave while we misbehave, okay (okay)
Once we figured the game out, we go play (go!)
The generation of people that love 2Pac
And hate, we bangin it in the boondocks
Now put your drink in the air if you ain't scared
Dem folks been doin that thang, yeah

[Chorus]

[Colt Ford] + (Bubba Sparxxx)
See me and Bubba, we've been doin this a long while
It sure seems a lot longer than a country mile
Hollywood look good, full of fake frieds
I never thought we could ever be here again (we back!)
Time heals, one fell, one came up
Back together son, we gon' tear this thing up
A lot of talk cousin, I ain't gotta name 'em
They wanna be us, hell I can't blame 'em (nah)
So looky here, cold beer on the tailgate
Been doin this for some years, y'all so late (so late!)
Bangin OutKast and a little George Strait
Hot damn, Colt Ford back with Bubba K

[Chorus]

[Bubba Sparxxx] + {Colt Ford}
E'rything real funny 'til the money come (and then what?)
Now they want some (what) when they ain't wanted none (ohh)
And that's just how the thing go when you get 'er done (how?)
We did it son {y-yeah we did it son~!}
We was drinkin Jim Beam by the handle (handle)
Me and Steven heard they're loadin up ammo (ammo)
Bumpin Goodie Mob, real tree camo (camo)
This white boy really think he Rambo! (GO!)
Cut the beat on, I bet his ass jam though
You don't like it straight to hell is where you can go
12-pointer hangin right above the mantle
You don't like the program? Change the channel (woo!)

[Chorus]
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