You Can Tell A Man By His Truck Lyrics

Red clay mud caked up on the door,
Twelve gauge buckshot rollin' in the floorboard.
Turkey feather flappin' up in the visor,
Every Friday night she's a dirt road rider.

You can tell a man by his truck,
F one fifty painted on the fender.
Gun rack rattling in the window,
You can tell a man by his truck.
It's got scratches and dents, just like him.
Come hell or high water gonna keep on rolling.
You can tell a man by his truck, yes uh.

Backwoods baby sittin' in the front,
She likes the way it rumbles and rides a little rough.
Hah, yeah she does.
Tearin' up a corn field, bustin' through a rut.
My baby's screamin', "faster," she can't get enough.

You can tell a man by his truck,
F one fifty painted on the fender.
Gun rack rattling in the window,
You can tell a man by his truck.
It's got scratches and dents, just like him.
Come hell or high water gonna keep on rolling.
You can tell a man by his truck, yes uh.

Plays horse, ball caps, sliding cross the dance floor,
Boot check in the back, parking up a storm.

You can tell a man by his truck,
F one fifty painted on the fender.
Gun rack rattling in the window,
You can tell a man by his truck.
It's got scratches and dents, just like him.
Come hell or high water gonna keep on rolling.
You can tell a man by his truck.
Oh man, you can tell a man by his truck.