What You Think Chords by Rebel Son

[N] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ [Fm] _
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_ In this day and age, lifestyles ain't all the same.
Everybody's looking [Fm] for somebody [F] else to blame.
[Bb] But nothing here tastes worse than the heat you're in smoked wine.
You're [F] addicted to wealth, to yourself, you're addicted to the dollar sign.
You [C] put me down cause I was raised a [Bb] little bit different from you.
Well I [Fm] work with my hands and respect my land, I'm [C] country trotting [F] through. _ _ _ _ _
_ _ You get up and go to work, put on your pretty suit and tie.
Well I put on a beat up shirt, work boots and faded old Levi's.
I [Bb] grind my fucking knuckles to the bone to make ends meet.
So [Fm] I'm glad you get mad when I drive fast [F] down your street.
Get pissed off, [C] we like to get [Bb] loud all over town.
If [F] you go to hell, does my rebel yell, volume don't go down. _ _
_ _ _ _ We're [Bb] just backwoods boys making noise in a new age society.
And [F] we don't give a shit about stock market or a life of luxury.
A [Bb] simple man is what I am, status ain't for me.
I may [C] not have a yacht, but I'm half as good as me.
I can [Bb] drink a beer and shoot a deer faster than you can blink.
Or [F] do you think I'm trash and you're high class and that's your shit don't think.
Well [C] I'm a honky tonkin' rip [Bb] romping shit stomping red nigging.
And I don't give a fuck what you [F] think. _ _ _ _ _ _
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_ _ You snobby Mr.
Moneybags, that people you [Fm] call friends.
But when it came down to it, you'd probably [F] be too greedy to help them.
[Bb] Well I've got good buddies for whom I'd put my life on the line.
Cause [F] I know they'd do the same for me if I was ever in a bind.
_ [C] Your heart is made from bars that [Bb] come from a synthetic tank.
When you [Fm] get donor [F] and you'll start to burn, you [C] can take that to [F] the bank. _ _ _
_ _ _ _ You read the Wall Street journals, sipping champagne in your [Fm] linseed.
Well I'll be alright with a coal butt light and a hot [F] rod magazine.
[Bb] You all love them _ BMWs and Porsches that you drive.
Well my [F] gas guzzler, 57 [Fm] bow tie suit and vine.
And [C] even mine you pretty [Bb] pennies who think they're all so cool.
[F] Just remember we're the ones who beat [C] the shit out of you in [F] school.
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We're just [Bb] backwoods boys making noise in a new age of side-pin.
We [F] don't give a shit about the stock market or life of luxury.
[Bb] A simple man is what I am, status ain't for me.
I may not have a [C] yacht, but I'm happy as can be.
I can [Bb] drink a beer and shoot a deer faster than you can blink.
But you [F] think I'm fresh, you're high class and that's your own shit and old thing.
Well I'm a [C] honky tonkin' rip-roffin' [Bb] shit stomping _ redneck.
And I don't give a fuck what you think. _ _ _ _
Fuck you. _ _ _ _ _
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