• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Country Boyz - Nappy Roots
• Country Boys - Ralph McTell
• Country Bus - Jake Thackray

We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off
We just some country boys - country walk, country talk
Don't bring it round here 'less ya know fa sho' it's jumpin off
Uhhh.. this nigga no games (games)
With my Hanes tee shirt, with a pic and roll chain (chain...)
Doo-rag, heavy blue 'Lac - 85 South, don't drive it too fast (too fast)
My niggaz don't roll no billies,
get a big box of them brown Dutches (brown Dutches)
We don't want no brand new Cartel
Brandon lemme get them keys to the Cutlass (Cutlass)
Represent for the M-I-L, the A-T-L, the Macktown (Macktown)
Stay smokin that smackdown, keep myself a little half pound (half pound)
You know B. Stille in the cut, on the back po'ch Jig drillin it up
Black folks just livin it up, court next week not givin a fuck!
What's up? Grown standin - only rap to them grown women (grown women)
Stay high, we'll play shy, least till I can get home wittem
Shorty whattchu thinkin? Whattchu drinkin? - thinkin it is what it ain't
I cain't be trickin, so don't be trippin, thinkin I can't when I cain't
Come on..
Nigga hooked it up, like the waitress from the IHOP
Nothin but the grits, steak, and egg with that
waitin for the five dollar pancake, front-back side to side
Them polly country boy, Cadillac, cat sick in the multi-color
All clean (twenty inches) at the seam (plenty chickens)
Get the green (spit the swishers) at the Beam (shit done seem)
Craziest muh'fucker, what y'all niggaz do for cream
Never knock the hustle scheme, only what the cheddar bring
Hate, fake-niggaz, hoes, envy, greed, jealousy
Cain't hate, what a nigga make, type of enemies
Smilin in my face but they really ain't no friend to me
Cain't wait, send em eight straight nine milli-mee
Aww hell naw, y'all niggaz ain't feelin me!
Colt 45 e'rytime like Billy D
Ninety-five (?) leave through Tennessee
Quarter pound with the chron' fuckin wit my memory
Peanut butter (Rag-tops) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(String beans) pork chops - what's fuckin wit that?!
Dime sack (with the gnac') - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin with that?! What's fuckin wit that?!
Every Chevy (on dubs) - what's fuckin wit that?!
(Jodi-Bodi) strip clubs - what's fuckin wit that?!
Nappy Roots (hey dawg) - what's fuckin wit that?!
What's fuckin wit that?! What's fuckin wit that?!
Go down to the country, you won't wanna go back
Vertical grills in front of the 'Lac
Guns roll so fast put one in my back
Plus a buncha country boys wit gats, you don't want none-a that
Keep - my nine - right beside me, at all times
Cuz I be in the line, like somma these niggaz you find
Don't want you to shine, right yea..
From the side and nine-to-nine
Roll around here somethin tryna sell mine
Lord know but I got a dime early time
Got me feelin to', now my Eggo's cold
See I'm a country boy (Huh?) Close the door (Huh?)
Clinton and Gore (Huh?) Y'all been warned (Huh?)
Guns and more - better hit the floor
Them yeggaz want ya cuz they comin in with them laws
Fuck - yo life; buck - my chife
and I got my ride, fool, I'm ready to ride
For my yeggaz I'ma bring it to you dead or alive
Yeah that's fa sho' ya betta know that
You a nasty hoe, ya betta show that
Got a quiet lil' spot we can go at

I woke up this morning, I got booze on my breath
And around my brain from the night before
There's a cigarette burned out upon the table
And a glass smashed out on the floor
Well I must have had a good time
Late last night
When I woke up this morning
I couldn't face the daylight
Go and tell the country boys that I'm leaving
Getting out, getting back to the Country!
Who's that fella sleeping
He's in my favourite chair? It's for sure
I never have seen him before.
Well where's my lady?
And who was that who just went sliding
Out the back door?
Chorus
Last night this joint was jumping
That girl, man she was really something
When she began to call me honey
So naturally I spent all my money
But I'm going back to the country
These city ways ain't for me no more
And that's for sure.
I'll grow my beans and potatoes
And you don't have to bar no windows
And lock up no doors.

Country bus, north country bus,
Clumsy and cumbersome, rumbustious,
Country bus, North Country bus,
Though you're a slow coach you're OK for us.
Though your cargo is confusion -
Sheepmen and cowgirls and chickens galore up the back -
No need to hurry:
We couldn't care less what the time may be.
And there's no call to worry -
If you smell a bit, so do we.
Villainous, malodorous
Country bus, north country bus,
Rollicking, frolicking, uproarious,
Country bus, North Country bus,
You’re rusty and you're dusty but you're OK for us.
Though your seats are rather Spartan
We've got the springs in our backsides to ride out your
bounce.
Though you may stumble
After the dance on a Sat’day night,
Backseat lovers don't grumble;
They seem to manage alright.
Amorous, scandalous.
Country bus, north country bus,
Lusty and rustic and impetuous,
Country bus, North Country bus,
Bog-trotting bumpkin, you're OK for us.
Though your progress is uncertain -
'Specially at night when the public house closes its
doors -
You tend to dodder,
Staggering home from The Bull Hotel.
We, we never bother,
'Cause we've got the staggers as well.
Glorious, notorious.
Country bus, north country bus
Grunting and chuntering, cantankerous,
Country bus, North Country bus,
But no other bus would be good enough for us.
Through the wild, the cruel winter
You get the coal in your eyes and the snow up your
nose.
But sooner or later
You will turn up in the village square
With daffodils in your gaiters
And pussy-willow in your hair.
Wait for us,
Wait for us,