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Beoordeling
4.5(8)
Akkoorden
Toonsoort
F♯
bpm
176
Stemming
440 Hz
Artiest
jam sessies
24111
Jaar van uitgave
2008
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De akkoorden voor 'Zac Brown Band - Chicken Fried (Official Music Video) | The Foundation' worden geladen.
You know I like my chicken friedAnd cold beer on a Friday nightA pair of jeans that fit just rightAnd the radio upWell, I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pineAnd that's home you knowSweet tea, pecan pie, and homemade wineWhere the peaches growAnd my house it's not much to talk aboutBut it's filled with love that's grown in southern groundAnd a little bit of chicken friedCold beer on a Friday nightA pair of jeans that fit just rightAnd the radio upI like to see the sunriseSee the love in my woman's eyesFeel the touch of a precious childAnd know a mother's loveIt's funny how it's the little things in life that mean the mostNot where you live, what you drive or the price tag on your clothesThere's no dollar sign on a peace of mind, this I've come to knowSo if you agree, have a drink with meRaise your glasses for a toastTo a little bit of chicken friedAnd cold beer on a Friday nightA pair of jeans that fit just rightAnd the radio upI like to see the sunriseSee the love in my woman's eyesFeel the touch of a precious childAnd know a mother's loveI thank God for my lifeAnd for the stars and stripesMay freedom forever fly, let it ringSalute the ones who diedThe ones that give their lives so we don't have to sacrificeAll the things we loveLike our chicken friedAnd cold beer on a Friday nightA pair of jeans that fit just rightAnd the radio upI like to see the sunriseSee the love in my woman's eyesFeel the touch of a precious childAnd know a mother's loveGet your little chicken friedAnd cold beer on a Friday nightA pair of jeans that fit just rightAnd the radio upI like to see the sunriseSee the love in my woman's eyesFeel the touch of a precious childAnd know a mother's loveLyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind | Door: Wyatt Durrette, Zac Brown | Lyrics © BLACKSTONE ENTERTAINMENT, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Lyrics

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Intro

You know I like my chicken fried
And cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up

Instrumentaal

Well, I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia pine
And that's home you know
Sweet tea, pecan pie, and homemade wine

Intro

Where the peaches grow
And my house it's not much to talk about
But it's filled with love that's grown in southern ground
And a little bit of chicken fried
Cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right

Refrein

And the radio up
I like to see the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child

Instrumentaal

And know a mother's love
It's funny how it's the little things in life that mean the most
Not where you live, what you drive or the price tag on your clothes

Couplet

There's no dollar sign on a peace of mind, this I've come to know
So if you agree, have a drink with me
Raise your glasses for a toast
To a little bit of chicken fried
And cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right

Refrein

And the radio up
I like to see the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love

Couplet

Refrein

I thank God for my life
And for the stars and stripes
May freedom forever fly, let it ring
Salute the ones who died
The ones that give their lives so we don't have to sacrifice

Instrumentaal

All the things we love
Like our chicken fried
And cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up

Couplet

I like to see the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child
And know a mother's love
Get your little chicken fried
And cold beer on a Friday night
A pair of jeans that fit just right
And the radio up
I like to see the sunrise
See the love in my woman's eyes
Feel the touch of a precious child

Refrein

And know a mother's love

Outro


Door: Wyatt Durrette, Zac Brown · Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind · Lyrics © BLACKSTONE ENTERTAINMENT, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
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