Ole Country Boy Chords by Hitman
Tempo:
74.175 bpm
Chords used:
D
Dm
Gm
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[D]
[Dm] [D]
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, with a double wide dream, a couple jailhouse
taps, down in Old Monroe where I pay my [Gm] dues, I thank the [D] lord that I'm breathing, that's
Stevie Ray for the blues.
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, if I said it then I mean it, I ain't
taking nothing back, had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots, I'm working
Just an old country boy from an old name town
Where the things we think we're new are really just damn it downs
We ain't got a liquor store, so we making our own
If you come, we'll come correct, because we molding a song
We ain't casting a stone, we try to live by the book
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and for the fish on this hook
I give this shirt off on my back for anyone who really needs it
If I'm lying, then I'm dying, and I'm still steady speaking
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Monroe, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through
I like to call it how I see it, if I said it, bet I meant it
I'm below that Mason-Dixon running game, this ain't a scrimmage
Every day's a different problem, every day's a different lull
I was born to raise hell, mama should've named me Troy
I like my C laid back, while I'm taking it slow
I got a family full of felons that ain't making parole
They sold their soul to the devil, for a bag full of dope
Now they call it home collectory, and we answer the phone
All the dirt that I've done, I learned to do on my own
If you never have a witness, who's to say that you're wrong?
I'm a legend in the making, headed straight for the throne
She my little pride and joy, she was made from my bones
You better watch how you speak, you better lower your tone
Before your last bow movement is at a funeral home
I'm just a small town boy, who never changed his ways
Working daylight to drop a pocket, letting spare change
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Dur-O, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, that's Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through
[Dm] [D]
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, with a double wide dream, a couple jailhouse
taps, down in Old Monroe where I pay my [Gm] dues, I thank the [D] lord that I'm breathing, that's
Stevie Ray for the blues.
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, if I said it then I mean it, I ain't
taking nothing back, had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots, I'm working
Just an old country boy from an old name town
Where the things we think we're new are really just damn it downs
We ain't got a liquor store, so we making our own
If you come, we'll come correct, because we molding a song
We ain't casting a stone, we try to live by the book
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and for the fish on this hook
I give this shirt off on my back for anyone who really needs it
If I'm lying, then I'm dying, and I'm still steady speaking
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Monroe, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through
I like to call it how I see it, if I said it, bet I meant it
I'm below that Mason-Dixon running game, this ain't a scrimmage
Every day's a different problem, every day's a different lull
I was born to raise hell, mama should've named me Troy
I like my C laid back, while I'm taking it slow
I got a family full of felons that ain't making parole
They sold their soul to the devil, for a bag full of dope
Now they call it home collectory, and we answer the phone
All the dirt that I've done, I learned to do on my own
If you never have a witness, who's to say that you're wrong?
I'm a legend in the making, headed straight for the throne
She my little pride and joy, she was made from my bones
You better watch how you speak, you better lower your tone
Before your last bow movement is at a funeral home
I'm just a small town boy, who never changed his ways
Working daylight to drop a pocket, letting spare change
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Dur-O, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, that's Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through
Key:
D
Dm
Gm
D
Dm
Gm
D
Dm
[D] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Dm] _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, with a double wide dream, a couple jailhouse
taps, down in Old Monroe where I pay my [Gm] dues, I thank the [D] lord that I'm breathing, that's
Stevie Ray for the blues.
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, if I said it then I mean it, I ain't
taking nothing back, had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots, I'm working
Just an old country boy from an old name town
Where the things we think we're new are really just damn it downs
We ain't got a liquor store, so we making our own
If you come, we'll come correct, because we molding a song
We ain't casting a stone, we try to live by the book
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and for the fish on this hook
I give this shirt off on my back for anyone who really needs it
If I'm lying, then I'm dying, and I'm still steady speaking
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Monroe, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through
I like to call it how I see it, if I said it, bet I meant it
I'm below that Mason-Dixon running game, this ain't a scrimmage
Every day's a different problem, every day's a different lull
I was born to raise hell, mama should've named me Troy
I like my C laid back, while I'm taking it slow
I got a family full of felons that ain't making parole
They sold their soul to the devil, for a bag full of dope
Now they call it home collectory, and we answer the phone
All the dirt that I've done, I learned to do on my own
If you never have a witness, who's to say that you're wrong?
I'm a legend in the making, headed straight for the throne
She my little pride and joy, she was made from my bones
You better watch how you speak, you better lower your tone
Before your last bow movement is at a funeral home
I'm just a small town boy, who never changed his ways
Working daylight to drop a pocket, letting spare change
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Dur-O, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, that's Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Dm] _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, with a double wide dream, a couple jailhouse
taps, down in Old Monroe where I pay my [Gm] dues, I thank the [D] lord that I'm breathing, that's
Stevie Ray for the blues.
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back, if I said it then I mean it, I ain't
taking nothing back, had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots, I'm working
Just an old country boy from an old name town
Where the things we think we're new are really just damn it downs
We ain't got a liquor store, so we making our own
If you come, we'll come correct, because we molding a song
We ain't casting a stone, we try to live by the book
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and for the fish on this hook
I give this shirt off on my back for anyone who really needs it
If I'm lying, then I'm dying, and I'm still steady speaking
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Monroe, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, and Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through
I like to call it how I see it, if I said it, bet I meant it
I'm below that Mason-Dixon running game, this ain't a scrimmage
Every day's a different problem, every day's a different lull
I was born to raise hell, mama should've named me Troy
I like my C laid back, while I'm taking it slow
I got a family full of felons that ain't making parole
They sold their soul to the devil, for a bag full of dope
Now they call it home collectory, and we answer the phone
All the dirt that I've done, I learned to do on my own
If you never have a witness, who's to say that you're wrong?
I'm a legend in the making, headed straight for the throne
She my little pride and joy, she was made from my bones
You better watch how you speak, you better lower your tone
Before your last bow movement is at a funeral home
I'm just a small town boy, who never changed his ways
Working daylight to drop a pocket, letting spare change
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
With a double wide dream, a couple of jailhouse tats
Down in Old Dur-O, where I pay my dues
I thank the Lord that I'm breathing, that's Stevie Ray for the blues
Just an old country boy, I wear my hat to the back
If I said it, then I meant it, I ain't taking nothing back
Had to get it out the mud, still got dirt on my boots
I'm working hard for a living, and barely making it through _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _