hey, kinda like that banjo.
crank that stuff up a little.
yeah, that’s what i’m talkin’ about.
the way she looks, the way she walks;
that southern tw*ng; that dirty talk.
rides harley’s, reads vogue.
she got a tattoo on her ankle, rebel flags on her toes.
one shake of that hip could make a puppy dog vicious.
mmm, hmm, mmm: rebelicious.
she’ll take jack over martinis,
skinny dippin’ over bikinis.
that hard body, soft smile,
could send a big man to his knees and drive them little boys wild.
she likes them tiny little skirts, an’ the way the preacher’s boy blushes:
mmm, mmm: rebelicious.
she’s a long tall, shopping-mall,
barbie-doll trailer park queen.
’bout hotter than anything i’ve ever seen.
she’s an outlaw livin’, ready an’ willin’,
sun-tanned redneck, miss h*ttin’.
you got a mansion, you drive a vet.
you wear a rolex, h*ll, she ain’t impressed.
she like deer stands, beer cans,
baits are on the hook when she fishes:
mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm: rebelicious.
aw, that’s what i’m talkin’ about man.
cheap sungl*sses, a pick-up truck; convertible.
what is that thing? a sixty-nine?
mmm, not a tan line on anything i can see: whoo.
hey, i bet you she knows david allen coe.