Lyrics
My grandpappy was happy hillbilly
A holler-raised, blue-collar, dollar-made man
Tobacco stained smiler
A shiner in the dark
With a keep-it-real-heart and a commonsense plan
I loved how he said what he said sometimes
Whenever he found me down
With a laugh and that throwback Arkansas drawl
That you get from my hick town, he'd say
Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it
Yeah, like jaw chaw on a dang dirt dauber sting
By God doggone it
Yeah, rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it
It's a bow on a fiddle
It's whittling on hickory
It's a homemade butter on cornbread thing
Getting back down to earth
Like a name on a shirt
Don't forget where you're from
If you know what I mean
When that city ain't looking so green
Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it
Yeah, like jaw chaw on a dang dirt dauber sting
By God doggone it
Yeah, rub a little country on it, aw yeah
On that clean truck
On some life sucks
On that been there, done that, now what?
On that done you wrong
On that shortcut home
On the radio before you turn it on
Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it
Yeah, like jaw chaw on a dang dirt dauber sting
By God doggone it
Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it, yeah
WRITERS
Casey Michael Beathard, Jeremy Stover, Justin Moore, Paul Charles Digiovanni
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Anthem Entertainment, Peermusic Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
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