Sippin on down
Sippin around
Tippin up a another cupa
Sippin' on down

Sippin on down
Sippin around
Tippin up another cupa
Sippin on down

12 gauge double barrel
Loaded full of buckshot
Brewin up that mountain dew
It boilin like a crockpot
Deep out in these
southern woods and
Far away from everything
Out amongest the tombstones
Cookin up that hurracain
Take a sip for testin then'
Pour a little on the ground
Soak up in that georgia clay
And now I'm waitin for the sound
150 years buried deep in
the earths grip
Soon they gonna be dancein
When that cool water
hits there lips
Made from the mill
Out a feild cursed by whoodo
Water from a well
Striaght outta hell
Cursed by voodoo
Stir it up cook it to
the point that it
evaporates
173 degrees boiling up
The dead awake

Chorus:

Sippin on down
Sippin around
Tippin up another cupa
Sippin on down

Sippin on down
Sippin around
Tippin up another cupa
Sippin on down

Sippin on down
Sippin around
Tippin up another cupa
Sippin on down

Sippin on down
Sippin around
Tippin up another cupa
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/xstSippin on down

100 gallons of that
rot gut top stock
Ready for the shippin
In a heavy chevy small block
Foot to the floor
Ridin mean like an out law
Duckin and dodgin road blocks
Like boxing with a southpaw
These dark and dusty roads
Lit up by the full moon
Comin round the corner
Muffler soundin like a moonsoon
I got the devils meanest demons
Ridin shotgun
Strapped with a winchester
Case they have to pop one
We headin for the next county
On the southin trail
G man and revenue hot on
my southern tail
Hang out the window
One blast with the buckshot
Need get em off my
ass so that I don't
get got

Chorus:

Wild lighter, sugar
whiskey, stump pole,
skull cracker, alley
bourbon, city gin,
wildcat, block
And tackle
It's how we do it
How we get it to the next level
Have us huntin bitches down
With a pick axe and shovel
Gone of that good shit
Hit ya like a mule kick
Pick a hater out the crowd
And hit em with a pool stick
Hulleonations seein shit
Got ya climbin trees
Passed out in a ditch
Like a bitch down on ya knees
Don't even give a fuck
When the spirts hit ya brain
Four shots is all ya need
Certified gone insane
Lets get it crackalackin
One more 'gain for the pimpin
Take the jug
And turn it up chug it down
And start the sippin

Chorus