Outta of the woods, outta of the shacks,
From across the tracks in their Pontiacs.
Jump back: the bubbas are comin'.
No more shuck an' jive.
Rebels yell for the honky-tonk life,
Layin' out all night, the neon lights,
The bar fights an' gettin bug-eye wild:
Run but you can't hide.
Hey, hey we gotta say:
Redneck revolution.
A long time comin'.
We are resurrectin' the institution.
So if you want a little more information,
Tune in to your redneck radio station.
Ha aw.
Come on down here, Yankee man, to Dixieland:
We'll stick beer in your hand, join the band,
Let the good times roll,
An' show you outlaw pride.
We don't give a damn what religion or race,
We don't hate.
Grab you a plate, an' get a taste.
We're servin' it up, y'all: hot apple pie.
Hey, hey we gotta say:
Redneck revolution.
A long time comin'.
We are resurrectin' the institution.
So if you want a little more information,
Tune in to your redneck radio station.
We want you.
We want you.
Come on: we want you,
An' you, an' you, an' you, an' you, an' you.
We gotta say:
Redneck revolution.
A long time comin'.
We are resurrectin' the institution.
So if you want a little more information,
Tune in to your redneck radio station.
We gotta say:
The redneck revolution.
The redneck revolution.
Yeah, the redneck revolution.
The redneck revolution.
