Written by Colin Buchanan/Lee Kernaghan/Garth Porter
E Johnno drives a Cruiser, Stretch is in his Ute, Kenny's old Torana is hangin' for a hoot. A From Tennant Creek to Longreach, It's not a real exclusive club. E Just find a quiet little turnoff, B E And fang it through the scrub. A Scrubbashin' in a cloud of dust, Foot's flat to the floor. E I'm flat strap out the back, Kickin' up the dirt track. That's what we come here for. A Buckin' like a stump jump plough, I'm comin' back for more. E B E It's my passion....scrubbashin'. E Well I found myself a paddock and it might be a sin, But I was carving dirt with circle work When the cops came to haul me in. A Well he took the keys of the old HT, And said 'I'm sorry son, E But its time you learnt your lesson, B E Let me show you how its done'. A Scrubbashin' in a cloud of dust, Foot's flat to the floor. E I'm flat strap out the back, Kickin' up the dirt track. That's what we come here for. A Buckin' like a stump jump plough, I'm comin' back for more. E B E It's my passion....scrubbashin'. A E A E B E INSTRUMENTAL B A You've got to keep that motor humming, Bb B A You've got to keep it running hot. Bb B A You've got to show 'em what you're made of, Bb B You've got to give it all you've got. A Scrubbashin' in a cloud of dust, Foot's flat to the floor. E I'm flat strap out the back, Kickin' up the dirt track. That's what we come here for. A Buckin' like a stump jump plough, I'm comin' back for more. E B E It's my passion....scrubbashin'.