"Goin' Nowhere" lyrics
HARDY, Morgan Wallen & Chris Shiflett Lyrics
Busch Light light on the ice, tidings on the tube
Zapper popping flies out here in the boons
Hah, I'm going nowhere (oh-oh-oh)
Yeah, I know the mountains got the snow, Cali's got the beach
Memphis got the soul, Atlanta's got the beats, but
Y'all, I'm going nowhere (oh-oh-oh)
'Cause I'm stuck in this town, in my truck
Riding round with a plug of long cut in my lip
You'd have to cut the whole tree down
Can't rip these roots out the ground
Ain't getting out and I don't care
'Cause why in the hell would I leave?
I don't need anything but fried chicken and crickets
If there's a yellow pine box, you can carry me in it
This red dirt, you can bury me in it
I'm going nowhere
Alright, Wallen
Where you going?
Yeah, country life is what you make it, you love it or you leave it
I got a reputation, I damn sure plan to keep it
Every bottle, every party, every parking lot fire
Guess all them daughter's daddies were right, I'm going nowhere
Stuck in this town, in my truck
Riding round with a plug of long cut in my lip
You'd have to cut the whole tree down
Can't rip these roots out the ground
Ain't getting out and I don't care
'Cause why in the hell would I leave?
I don't need anything but fried chicken and crickets
If there's a yellow pine box, you can carry me in it
This red dirt, you can bury me in it
I'm going nowhere
Some people get the itch to ditch a dirt road
But that county line sign's as far as I'll go
(Oh-oh-oh)
Because I'm stuck in this town, in my truck
Riding round with a plug of long cut in my lip
You'd have to cut the whole tree down
Can't rip these roots out the ground
Ain't getting out and I don't care
'Cause why in the hell would I leave?
I don't need anything but fried chicken and crickets
If there's a yellow pine box, you can carry me in it
This red dirt, you can bury me in it
I'm going nowhere
Country life is what you make it, you love it or you leave it (going nowhere)
I got a reputation, I damn sure plan to keep it (yeah, I'm going nowhere)
Every bottle, every party, every parking lot fire
Guess all them daughter's daddies were right, I'm going nowhere
Zapper popping flies out here in the boons
Hah, I'm going nowhere (oh-oh-oh)
Yeah, I know the mountains got the snow, Cali's got the beach
Memphis got the soul, Atlanta's got the beats, but
Y'all, I'm going nowhere (oh-oh-oh)
'Cause I'm stuck in this town, in my truck
Riding round with a plug of long cut in my lip
You'd have to cut the whole tree down
Can't rip these roots out the ground
Ain't getting out and I don't care
'Cause why in the hell would I leave?
I don't need anything but fried chicken and crickets
If there's a yellow pine box, you can carry me in it
This red dirt, you can bury me in it
I'm going nowhere
Alright, Wallen
Where you going?
Yeah, country life is what you make it, you love it or you leave it
I got a reputation, I damn sure plan to keep it
Every bottle, every party, every parking lot fire
Guess all them daughter's daddies were right, I'm going nowhere
Stuck in this town, in my truck
Riding round with a plug of long cut in my lip
You'd have to cut the whole tree down
Can't rip these roots out the ground
Ain't getting out and I don't care
'Cause why in the hell would I leave?
I don't need anything but fried chicken and crickets
If there's a yellow pine box, you can carry me in it
This red dirt, you can bury me in it
I'm going nowhere
Some people get the itch to ditch a dirt road
But that county line sign's as far as I'll go
(Oh-oh-oh)
Because I'm stuck in this town, in my truck
Riding round with a plug of long cut in my lip
You'd have to cut the whole tree down
Can't rip these roots out the ground
Ain't getting out and I don't care
'Cause why in the hell would I leave?
I don't need anything but fried chicken and crickets
If there's a yellow pine box, you can carry me in it
This red dirt, you can bury me in it
I'm going nowhere
Country life is what you make it, you love it or you leave it (going nowhere)
I got a reputation, I damn sure plan to keep it (yeah, I'm going nowhere)
Every bottle, every party, every parking lot fire
Guess all them daughter's daddies were right, I'm going nowhere
Writer(s): Jacob Robert Durrett, Joe Clemmons, Canaan Lee Smith, Michael Hardy
