G.O.B. by the G.O.G.

You can brag about where you're from All them drugs you done You can build your name off the money and the fame But what happens when the money's gone, son Build your house up on a hill Ride around in a Coupe de Ville But buddy, all that bling and them shiny things Sure ain't keepin' it real You can say whatcha wanna say But I ain't ashamed I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G. A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be By the grace of God and the dirt on these jeans I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G., yeah Ain't no such thing as a bad day of fishin' If something gets broke around here, I'll fix it I was raised on cornbread and chicken fried chicken Every Sunday after church I'm a redneck, blue collar, white t-shirt 'Til I'm six feet deep in the dirt I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G. A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be By the grace of God and the dirt on these jeans I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G., yeah Ooh, woah, oh, oh, oh, oh If you wanna know where I'm from Straight outta Campton, son I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G., yeah A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be By the grace of God 'til I'm six feet deep G.O.B by the G.O.G. G.O.B by the G.O.G. A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be By the grace of God, it's plain to see I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G., yeah By the grace of God and the dirt on these jeans I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G., yeah