| Between the trailer and the dog
|
| And the cars on blocks and the hogs
|
| Out in the front yard
|
| Where us kids play
|
| No grass
|
| Yeah there was mama
|
| In her house shoes
|
| Smokin' Salem Lights with the tattoos
|
| You add it all up
|
| That’s why they call us white trash
|
| Well if they’d had their way
|
| They’d have thrown us away
|
| Like an empty bottle of wine
|
| We belong sacked up
|
| Stacked on the curb
|
| In their mind
|
| And their daddy’s didn’t want us
|
| Hanging 'round their girls
|
| And they told every son they had
|
| Don’t even think about it
|
| Taking out the white trash
|
| Now between her Beamer and her Ray Bans
|
| And her spring break seaside sun tan
|
| Hell I could see she
|
| Was on her own side of the tracks
|
| Oh you know I knew her from school
|
| Yeah she ran with the boys that were cool
|
| Well as far as I knew she wanted nothing to do
|
| With white trash
|
| Well if they’d had their way
|
| They’d have thrown us away
|
| Like an empty bottle of wine
|
| We belong sacked up
|
| Stacked on the curb
|
| In their mind
|
| And their daddy’s didn’t want us
|
| Hanging 'round their girls
|
| And they told every son they had
|
| Don’t even think about it
|
| Taking out the white trash
|
| That girl is my baby now
|
| We live right here in this town
|
| Got a bunch of kids running around
|
| Ain’t it funny how it all turned out?
|
| Well if they’d had their way
|
| They’d have thrown us away
|
| Like an empty bottle of wine
|
| We belong sacked up
|
| Stacked on the curb
|
| In their mind
|
| And their daddy’s didn’t want us
|
| Hanging 'round their girls
|
| And they whipped their boy’s white ass
|
| All for even thinking 'bout taking white trash
|
| Thank God I know something 'bout
|
| Running 'round with white trash |