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We're flatland hillbillies Irish-Cajun-Creole mix My brother's an offshore rig Sister's on the pole at Slick's Mama takes in people's washing She was widowed by a pipeline man We're flatland hillbillies Getting by on what we can River rats and jon-boat shrimpers Trouble in our DNA It wouldn't be the same Port Arthur If we got up and moved away God forbid we hit the lotto The chances are, we'd wind up shot We're flatland hillbillies Getting by on what we can Flatland hillbillies Heather to the marrowbone Working on your cars and drinking in your bars And running every red light home If you've never ran a trot line Never skinned an eight-point buck Never had a squirrel meat sandwich (Covered up in gravy) Letras de cancionesThen I guess you're just out of luck (And I don't mean maybe) Living on the edge of nowhere (We ain't going nowhere) Isn't for the faint of heart (Oh no, we're not) We're flatland hillbillies Waiting on the fire to start Flatland hillbillies Another other breed apart From Letras Mania