Upchurch – What I Claim (Guitar)

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I ain't the best singer or the best lookin'

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Ain't got a plan to make people listen to me

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Ain't no designer tellin' me what to wear

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I hit Tractor Supply and get six of the same pair

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My claim to fame is a story in a page

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Marijuana and some thoughts written down to explain

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From a day I lived and turned into a song

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As I sit on a porch gettin' stoned at my farm

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29 years old, out livin' in a dream

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Big fancy tour bus and millions of streams

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But I'm still in muddy water, way more than waist-deep

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I love my upbringin' and I ain't ashamed

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That I claim the rednecks and everywhere that's out on a mountain

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And I claim the rеbel flags, flyin' high off a young man's Scottsdale cab

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And I claim evеry good ol' boy with homemade tattoos that he's still proud of

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It ain't how I dress, naw it ain't how I sing

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It's how I tell 'em what I claim

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There'll never be another Johnny Cash

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But I feel like him when I'm pissed-off mad

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In one of my muscle cars goin' way too fast

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Not worried if a deer even kills my ass

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Then after a few miles, I quit bein' so wreckless

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Light me up a roach while I'm listenin' to Elvis

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Like a hound dog hangin' out the window

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Still holdin' my soul 'cause the devil can't get it

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Yeah, music ain't money 'round here, no sir

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It's the blood in our veins and a flag on the porch

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Red with a blue circle, holdin' three bright stars

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In the 615, ask who we are

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They'll say we claim the rednecks and everywhere that's out on a mountain

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Yeah, we claim the rebel flags, flyin' high off a young man's Scottsdale cab

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And we claim every good ol' boy with homemade tattoos that he's still proud of

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Yeah, it ain't how we dress, and it ain't how we sing, it's how we tell 'em what we claim

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And hell naw, we ain't ashamed

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Hopefully, one day, long from now

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Way in the future, when I'm underground

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A rebel child will discover the sound

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Of a Nashville-born, redneck loud-mouth

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And say that he claimed the rednecks and everywhere that's out on a mountain

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Yeah, he claimed the rebel flags, flyin' high off his truck and he didn't get scared

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And he claimed every good ol' boy with homemade tattoos like he had on his arm

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Yeah, it ain't how he dressed, and it ain't how he sang, it's how he told 'em what he claimed