Woorden: Brantley Gilbert. A Modern Day Prodigal Son. G.R.I.T.S..

I had a buddy come down bout last July,
he called me when he crossed the Mayson Dixie line
he said he was headed down south and lookin for a real good time
i said man c'mon i got a place in mind,
we pulled up at a bar right off the Georgia line
he walked in man his eyes got wide and when his jaw hit the floor and he could do was smile,
he said man we got some pretty women up north but i ain't never seen nothin like this,
and i said man these here ain't ordinary women...we call these GRITS

[CHORUS]
she got pride cause she was raised in the country, she knows her roots and works hard for her money
southern draw,
with dark tan legs
ain't nothin like a women southern born and bred
she loves her mom and daddy and lord to death,
she acts innocent but plays hard to get
the girls tonight man they're out on the town
G.R.I.T.S man a girl raised in the south...yeah

we sat down at the bar and a couple of drinks
he's breakin his neck just scoapin the scene,
it wasn't long before she had my attention pointed at the door,
he was starin at her long legs and at her boots, short skirt and her T-shirt didn't have much use but she walked right to the jukebox and fired it up

(Thanks to Jayna for these lyrics)