Riding Backroads

Verse 1
Got a Busch Apple cold in my right hand,
Mud on the tires, we're leaving town again.
Camo on my back, boots on the floor,
Four-wheeler loaded up, headed for the shore.
Fishing poles bouncing in the truck bed,
Sun going down, that orange sky overhead.
Ain't got no plans, don't need no map,
Just a tank of gas and a couple buddies in the cab.
Chorus
We’re riding backroads with the windows down,
Busch Apple bottles getting passed around.
Four-wheel drive, mud flying high,
Fishing poles and a fire underneath the sky.
Camo in the woods, boots in the dirt,
Living that life where the good times don't hurt.
If tomorrow comes, we'll worry then,
Tonight we're just young and wild again.
Verse 2
Parked that truck by the old fishing hole,
Crank that radio up, let the country roll.
Got a line in the water and a fire burning bright,
Four-wheelers ripping through the woods all night.
Got mud on the doors and scratches on the hood,
But we wouldn't change it even if we could.
Ain't chasing money, ain't chasing fame,
Just chasing sunsets and remembering names.
Chorus
We’re riding backroads with the windows down,
Busch Apple bottles getting passed around.
Four-wheel drive, mud flying high,
Fishing poles and a fire underneath the sky.
Camo in the woods, boots in the dirt,
Living that life where the good times don't hurt.
If tomorrow comes, we'll worry then,
Tonight we're just young and wild again.
Bridge
Here's to the nights we don't wanna forget,
The ones we ain't even talking about yet.
To the muddy tires and the cold drinks too,
To the backwoods life and the same old crew.
Final Chorus
Yeah, we're riding backroads with the windows down,
Busch Apple cold while we're leaving town.
Four-wheel drive, stars lighting up the sky,
Fishing by the fire while the hours roll by.
Camo on our backs, mud on our boots,
Ain't nobody telling us what we gotta do.
Give me a truck, a trail, and my friends—
That's the kind of life I wanna live again.