Tabasco & Sweet Tea

Jaren Johnston, Alysa Vanderheym, Ben Burgess   

Every kiss a hundred thousand degrees

Burn ya up, burn ya up, week in the knees, that good heat, mmmm, yeah

Every touch, ice cream,

I’m talkin’ Blue Bell, hot fudge, you know what I mean, that good sweet, mmmm

 

She’s hotter than Tabasco, I’m talking barefoot black top down in Daytona

Such a southern little sizzle, you can fry an egg on it

She’s sweeter than the sweet tea that Mamaw made, straight sugar water

Makes me wanna lay her down, put some sugar on her

When God made my baby, well, He must have been rockin’

That bartender upstairs made one hell of a concoction

For me – she’s Tabasco and sweet tea

 

Well, she’s spicy like that jerky got from Buccee’s down in Texas

So delightful like that coconut, hanging in my Lexus

Not that new car smell, I’m talkin’ Tropicana

She got a mean little temper like a pit bull on a chain

But when she loves she loves like that sugar cane

And I can tell this shit is forever

 

Chorus

Chorus

 

Stop That Girl

Jaren Johnston, Neil Mason, James McNair

Seven numbers on a matchbook burnin’ me up

Well, I’m a large mouth hangin’ on a bass hook and you reelin’ me up

I’m like, what you drinkin’? Whiskey, I’m a thinkin’ – OK

When you walk in a Suki lookin’ that good, I’m a fill yo cup

 

Ya better stop that girl if ya don’t want a country boy fallin’ in love

Ya better stop that girl, put a red light on her, slow it down, sho nuff

I’m talkin’ good God Almighty, movin’ and groovin’,

  them Daisy Dukes are so tighty

Ya better stop that girl, who’m I kidding?

Once we get to kissing, heart beat hitting, ain’t no quitting, hope ya don’t

Stop that girl

 

God forbid they throw another quarter in the juke box, shit, there goes the roof

Might have to take your hand and dance and show these moves off, yeah

Get to scootin’ some boots, you’re like Chattahoochee –

OK, shake that booty my way

Might even get it on on a table top in a corner booth

 

Chorus

 

Stop that girl

Stop that girl

Stop that girl

Stop that girl

 

Chorus

 

Head Over Wheels

Jaren Johnston

She’s got curves from the ground up

From the first day I seen her I was in love

Candy apple lipstick red, honey, please

And black leather on her bench seat

 

I’m head over wheels for a Cadillac

That vroom, vroom, vroom give a heart attack

Take me for a ride, I’ll sit in the back

I’m head over wheels for a Cadillac, uh-huh

 

She moves slow, and then she speed up

Got a place right in the center for a my Solo cup

Wears a fuzzy dice necklace that I got for her in Texas

Automatic windows down when I puff, puff

 

Chorus

Chorus

 

Sweet Southern Spirit

Jaren Johnston, Neil Mason

Yeah, is it in them cut offs, is it the whiskey on her lips

Is it the F-150 with a lift kit, is it the way she moves them hips

To fishin’ in the dark and Sweet Home Alabama

She got my heart

I want take her home and show my mamaw

 

When I’m with her I’m a watchin’ Lynyrd Skynyrd

Front and center sayin hell yeah, shake that thang

Make a fella wanna buy that pawn shop ring

It’s in her touch, it’s in her kiss

She on a country boy bucket list

She can cold beer it, John Deere it, Free Bird every lyric

In her hey y’all you can hear it

She got that sweet southern spirit

Sweet like molasses, sweet like tea

Sweet like honeysuckle, she’s sweet on me

 

Daddy must have been a fisherman, Mama must have been a cook

’Cause that lady and gentleman

Made a girl that make a bass put a lip on the hook

 

When I’m with her I’m a watchin’ Lynyrd Skynyrd

Front and center sayin hell yeah, shake that thang

Make a fella wanna buy that pawn shop ring

It’s in her touch, it’s in her kiss

She on a country boy bucket list

She can cold beer it, John Deere it, Free Bird every lyric

In her hey y’all you can hear it

She got that sweet southern spirit

Sweet like molasses, sweet like tea

Sweet like honeysuckle, she’s sweet on me

 

When I’m with her I’m a watchin’ Lynyrd Skynyrd

Front and center sayin hell yeah, shake that thang

Make a fella wanna buy that pawn shop ring

It’s in her touch, it’s in her kiss

She on a country boy bucket list

She can cold beer it, John Deere it, Free Bird every lyric

In her hey y’all you can hear it

She got that sweet southern spirit

Sweet like molasses, sweet like tea

Sweet like honeysuckle, she’s sweet on me

 

 

Road Soda

Jaren Johnston, Neil Mason

Well, hey, girl, let me get the door

Hope on in and get the bench seat warm

This is Jimmy the driver

Take us where you wanna go

Thing purrs like a tiger when he put the pedal to the floor

Girl, you look thirsty, well, I cam prepared

Ain’t nothing worse than no buzz when we get there

Tell me do you like whiskey? If you do you’re in luck

Go and lay a kiss on me, let me fill your cup

 

Tonight we’re just backseat singing in a drop top up

On Goodyears drinkin’ a little Jack on ice

Slide on over let me hold ya, I ain’t no chauffeur

But I can keep it in the road soda

 

Hey, Jimmy, watch the rumble strips

Just topped it off, don’t wanna spill a drip

Turn it loud, some Paycheck Johnny

Might even smoke a little marijuanny

 

Chorus

Chorus

 

Bridges

Jaren Johnston, Neil Mason, Frank Rogers

One’ll take you straight to losing your money

One’ll straight to losing your time

One’ll take you to that hot little number that sure gonna blow your mind

And one’ll lead you to that heartbreak city

One to a little bit of rain

And one’ll take you straight to the promised land, one’ll take you down in flames

 

I’m talkin’ ’bout bridges, some are up high, hangin’ on by a thread

Bridges, some are down low, anchored down in the bed rock

You’ve got to make your decision

Bridges, we live, we learn, which ones to cross, which ones to burn

 

She was a blonde tightrope over troubled water

I almost made it across

It hurt like hell when I hit the bottom but oh what a hell of a fall

But she was a swingin’ shakey little achy breaky

Shouda known to turn around

But if I hadn’t taken that walk on the wild side

I wouldn’t know what I know now

 

Chorus

 

Well, sometimes it’s hard to know which way to turn, which way to go

And there’s angels waitin’ up on the mountain with demons in the water below

But it’s Friday night and girl I like that crazy there in your eye

So baby, what’s your name, baby, won’t you take me over to the other side

 

Chorus

 

Bridges

Bridges

 

Devil's Lettuce

Jaren Johnston, Neil Mason

Looking at the clock and there a 4 and there’s a 20

Puts a smile up on my ’cause I got a little money

Been a long damn day and I need a little chill

And I’m trying not to drink and I’m laying off the pills

 

So I call up Stoney ’cause he’s heavy on the scale

And he’s got freshy fresh called purple fairy tale

And we rally up the troops and put a record on the spinner

Bob Marley, yeah, that’s a winner

 

Ooh, puff puff pass, hit it, blow it out,  just like that

Got the best homegrown from Tennessee to Texas

Getting higher than heaven on that devil’s lettuce

Ooh, gimme gimme gimme that

Ooh, gimme gimme gimme that

Ooh, gimme gimme gimme that devil’s lettuce

 

Looking at Bessie looking over at the lava lamp

She said it’s talking to me then she went and did a face plant

Onto the couch watching Dazed and Confused

With Billy and Jimmy, it was like a cartoon

 

Then we got a little munchie so we hopped up in the Cadillac

But not before we rolled a little spliff of shakey bakey swag

Where you wanna go? Best food in town

Scattered, smothered, Waffle House

 

Chorus

Chorus

 

 

Crispy

Jaren Johnston

Yeah, Friday, 5:05 PM

I’m clockin’ out like a speed racer

Headin’ to the weekend

I’m gonna trade that John Deere for my F-150

Gonna call up Jimmy, Jessie, Amy  and Britney

Y’all roll with me

 

I got a crispy like a fresh pack of Lay’s potatoes

’Bout to paint this town up with some work week dinero

Ain’t talkin’ ’bout 5 twenties or 2 fifties

Tonight Benjamin buyin’ that top shelf whiskey

Got a crispy

Crispy

Money

 

I feel like Janson, might buy a boat

Or a Yeti 110 or watch a cold beer float

Or take it down to Tootsies, throw it in the tip jar

’Cause the band is jammin’, they a workin’ real hard

 

Chorus

Chorus

 

Money Ain't Shit

Jaren Johnston, Neil Mason, James McNair

Well, I was broke as a joke, no bank account commas

Hand me down boots, knock off Tony Lamas

It was paper plate dinner, box wine, chicken ramen

Smokin’ that cheap Bob Marley we be jammin’

 

But she had a thing for my swang and my guitar pickin’

She said our way of life is the good kinda livin’

 

Money ain’t shit if you ain’t got love

All that filthy rich don’t add up to much

If you ain’t spendin all your dollars on that hot little dime

Well, you’re out there wastin’ more than your time

’Cause money ain’t shit if you ain’t got love

 

Yeah, he got that Lamborghini but he ain’t got no bikini in the shotgun seat

Yeah, he got that private jet but he ain’t mile high clubbin’ yet

Well, buddy, that ain’t me, I’m in 24D, makin’ out with my honey

 

Chorus

Chorus

 

Turn the Radio On

Jaren Johnston

Dollar bills – need ’em, kids – gotta feed ’em

Fans – greet ’em, horses – lead ’em

Backs – scratch ’em, no reaction

Just matter of factin’, songs need traction

 

It’s a long dirt road to the top if you don’t turn the radio on

It’s a long dirt road to the top if you don’t turn the radio on

You can’t turn it up if it ain’t on

So DJ play my fuckin’ song

 

House – can’t buy it, top shelf – can’t try it

Prevost – can’t ride it, I ain’t gonna lie

 

Chorus

Chorus

 

DJ Voices: It’s 4 AM.

Uh, that was The Cadillac Three with “Play My Fuckin’ Song.”

Geez, Tom, probably not gonna hear that one again.

Oh no sirree, Bob.

You got that.

Jesus, I mean who do these fuckin’ guys think they are?

Ah, shit, did I just say--?        

Tom, we’re live!

 

Sabbath on Cornbread

Jaren Johnston

Sabbath on cornbread,

Whiskey and weed,

Hank and the Grateful Dead

Some might call us a crossbreed

Some just call us the best there ever was,

There ever is, yeah, there ever will be

If you see the skull and crossbones comin’ your way, you in the place to be

Sticks and skins, slide and steel, a guitar man,

3 hippie hilbillies from Tennessee shootin’ to kill

Keepin’ it heavy, keepin’ it real

Better hide your woman ’cause me and the boys

We’s a lookin’ for a heart to steal

Best damn band in country you best believe

You ain’t never seen nothin’ like The Cadillac Three

 

Well, Nashville sure has changed a lot over the years

Cranes and condos and knockin’ down the studios and bars

Where we used to drink beer

But one thing you can bet your damn bottom dollar on, gonna stay the same

These 3 longhairs born and raised here gonna keep on changin’ the game

 

Chorus

Chorus