Genuine Southern Hospitality 

Grandmas in the kitchen cookin’ cornbread and butter beans.
The kids are on the porch watchin’ daddy churn the peach ice cream. Smiles on the faces of family and the friends I love.
Steeped in tradition and blessed by the Lord above.
Ya’ll come to the table, get yourself a seat.
Join hands say your prayers give thanks, it’s time to eat. Ya’ll come on.

And have a heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality.
Pan fried genuine southern hospitality.
Ya’ll make yourself at home.

Down the road a piece, up yonder near the old cypress tree.
There’s a party goin’ on back in the woods and they don’t close till half past three.
Meet me out back we’ll have a pull off the big brown jug.
Put on your dancin’ shoes we’re bound to burn a hole in the rug.
Play your guitars, pound them 88’s, gonna be a jam tonight, I can’t wait.

Have a heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality.
Pan fried, genuine southern hospitality.
Make yourself at home.

I can feel a rumble in the distance, roll freight train roll.
Hey conductor, pull the cord, I wanna hear that lonesome whistle blow. Take me back oh sweet sound to the glory days.
When I was just a boy runnin’ free on the blues highway.
Wind on my face movin’ down the track, it’s times like these that keep me comin’ back.

To have a heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality.
Pan fried genuine southern hospitality.
Sure, nuff know, deep in my soul what’s good for me.
A big heapin’ helpin’ of southern hospitality.
Bona fide genuine southern hospitality… That’s Right!