Demun Jones & Upchurch Lyrics – Jones Offroad

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Off Road

[Durwood Black:]
We’re going off road, way back off the highway (Uh)
Head out the window with the hat cocked sideways
Chrome stacked blowing black to the skyway
Put on some Hank, let’s crank it like it’s Friday
Off road, way back off the highway (Uh)
Head out the window with the hat cocked sideways (I got my boys)
Chrome stacked blowing black to the skyway (Uh)
Throw on some Hank, let’s crank it like it’s Friday

[Demun Jones:]
I’ve got my boys and my beer, they got toys jacked up to here
Got room for a loaded white tail in the rear, get a ladder ’cause you gotta climb up in here
Ain’t talking ’bout deer, y’all know it, yeah we going off road for sure
It’s time for the boys with the rounds to blow it, where you see the convoy, don’t follow it
Let’s just roll, roll, way back off the highway where nobody knows
Corn rows and the sun shining bright right through the pine trees, that’s where you’ll find me
Light breeze, Yeti on freeze, 71 Z’s and Betty’s on these
Rocking the states, Canadians overseas, refugees, Thai friends and Chinese
Hit the web store for tanks and tees, with the logo on it please and thanks for the cheese
Everything that JC boy needs, like feedin’ my chicks red wings and real trees
Ammunition’s for our 15’s with a bump stock jumpin’ like backward jeans
Yeah that’s me, the one choppin’ down trees, flippin’ through high capacity magazines

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[Durwood Black:]
We’re going off road, way back off the highway (Uh)
Head out the window with the hat cocked sideways (I got my boys)
Chrome stacked blowing black to the skyway (Uh)
Put on some Hank, let’s crank it like it’s Friday
Off road, way back off the highway (Uh)
Head out the window with the hat cocked sideways (I got my boys)
Chrome stacked blowing black to the skyway (Uh)
Throw on some Hank, let’s crank it like it’s Friday (Upchurch)

[Upchurch:]
Where’s the keys to my four-wheeler, I’m about to tear this whole track up
Tony Stewart these fucking punks, no breaks, all I know is gas son
Me and Demun in a K5 with a brush guard like a freight train
We gon’ party hard in this cornfield, let the KC lights just guide the way
To a dead end road in the game reserve where them shotgun shells ain’t even heard
Where the pot plants grow and the moonshine burns and the cops don’t go ’cause of shit they heard
Got rednecks tatted on their face and hands (Hands), dirty work puts money in the pants (Pants)
Red Camaro, turbo with the trans (Trans), dashboard rockin’ two tanned up legs
Never had a chance to come roll up fresh, paint jobbing on my truck with some Walmart cans
Camouflage on the dents baby I’m that man, turnt up like a bunch of fucking Nascar fans
Shit, all I do is win like Ricky Bobby, behind the seat Benelli with shawty
Me and Jones about to crank the party, hope you rockin’ on some Mickey Thompson’s