I sold my first joint in my sixteenth year

The same time Baker got elected sheriff around here

The county clerk must've thought it weird

How far the ballot box was off

In the Ozark hills, in the country of God

We know the kinda money prohibition brought

When Reagan made his war on pot

He made outlaws of us all

Well, I stole heirloom seeds from Humboldt soil

Maui-Wowie, Diesel, and the Cali Gold

The White Widow's the best I'm told

For the hills of Arkansas

And ten miles from any blacktop road

On a couple hidden acres with a mobile home

A short way away from where the sheriff was born

I started my first grow

20-watt bulbs and styrofoam

Bush-hog, shovels, and a mile of hose

They warned me at the hardware store

They said, "The law knows what hippies grow"

But haulin' chicken shit in my junked out truck

I would sell anything for a greasy buck

I'm Sam Walton, I'm JB Hunt

I'm a job creator, I'm a dangerous one

Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round?

A good man murdered, a bad man drowned

The cops are all moonshiners now

But the money grows on trees

Yeah, the money grows on trees

I met Sheriff Baker in the White River basin

Starin' down the barrel of his Smith and Wesson

He cuffed me up, he took me in

I figured I would fry

But a Huntsville jail is no place for me

Two days later, they let me go free

The sheriff said from now on he'd be takin' a piece

Like the old days of moonshine

A dollar for every dime

And that sheriff was no flattop pig

A knife in his boot, a nine on his hip

An outlaw biker with a Mongol stitch

Known wide and thought of well

So I knew I'd have to pay that man off good

There were long-haired hippies all over these woods

But none had the firepower I would

With a lawman on my side

So I mouthed off the things I know

How you kill the male plants so the flowers can grow

I sent that sheriff on midday raids

To rob and steal and confiscate

Every bit of that green gold

And I grew own my sticky bud full of pine and loam

My purple-haired baby, my lover, my own

I'm a lost boy from a good home

I'm a Booger County CEO

Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round?

A good man murdered, a bad man drowned

The cops are all moonshiners now

But the money grows on trees

My first deal went through USPS

And all the money came in as a cashier's check

I thought twelve grand was the best it would get

Oh boy, I did not know

But money grows greed, and greed grows wrath

Ten flour sacks full of weed and cash

Sheriff Baker robbed me of half my stash

Left his tracks for me to find

Will you guard your pride, will you risk your life?

Will you clasp your hands, and blow on the dice?

Prison on the table, I just let it ride

But I swore I wouldn't let him fool me twice

A long haul drive with a cocaine grin

A horse trailer full of my finest blend

I struck a new deal with Armenians

And the payout went sky-high

Ten dollars for every dime

In the Kings River valley with those very same caves

That hid Cole Younger and Jessie James

I couldn't spend all the money we made

I buried a million presidents

Fifty G's in my sleeve like a stone-cold killer

In a plantation house with a great big cellar

I was throwin' up dirt with big diesel tillers

For a few hundred more pounds

And Sheriff Baker bought up all the land he could get

And a black Mustang and a red Corvette

The bigger we got, the bigger our heads

Of course somebody came for it

Yeah, the DEA put eyes in the sky

So we grew hydroponics in the cellar inside

We sat outside, and watched the planes fly by

'Cause we were too damn big to fail

With the sheriff throwin' 'em off our trail

And you can lose your head, and you can curse your luck

But the federales got a warrant for us

Too bad that house got lightning struck

What a wild-ass act of God

Yeah, we were wild-ass actin' gods

Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round?

A good man murdered, a bad man drowned

The cops are all moonshiners now

But the money grows on trees

Yeah, the money grows on trees

I went back to that farm in the dead of the night

To dig up the money that I never did find

I had a good grow for the last time

I got caught red-handed on the mountain side

And the rich get richer, that's just how it goes

They can poison us with pills and GMOs

But I did a ten year bid for a little smoke

Because a poor man can't get high

Because it ain't white collar crime

And I got out, but I never pissed clean

I kept slingin' stuff on the low and lean

Till Baker's side piece young Billy Jean

She was gonna sell us out

And there's things your whisper ear to ear

Billy Jean up and disappeared

Ya better button your lip, buddy, keep it sealed

Take the truth down to your grave

Sheriff Baker got low as a man can get

Methamphetamines and a pile of debt

Kid a suicide and his wife just left

He said he wanted the end of it

And I guess I could see why

'Cause all the Hell's Angels wanted our heads

For handshake deals and cash for sex

When I found his body, he was long dead

Dredged up by the riverside

Drowned or murdered, I can't decide

Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round?

A good man murdered, a bad man drowned

The cops are all moonshiners now

But the money grows on trees

Yeah, the money grows on trees

It's too damn much, this county's changed

There's no good end to the outlaw way

Nobody hires felons, so I can't go straight

I wanna end it all myself today

So robbed a Wally World off of MLK

And I'm waitin' for the cops to come take me away

Can't ya see the blue lights comin'?

Hey, they won't take me alive

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

I'll leave in a bodybag but not in cuffs

If it sends my soul to hell

Won't you tell my story well?

Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round?

A good man murdered, a bad man drowned

The cops are all moonshiners now

But the money grows on trees

The money grows on trees

Won't you bury me in the rocky ground

Where the money grows on trees?