Rodney Atkins - Tips lyrics

rate me

Well, I was counting my tips at the Playing Sixes

In this

When this old beach bum yelled out

"Come on, play, give me three steps"

I was beat but I played him one more

Then I was headed out towards the door

And he handshake and handed me a hundred dollar bills

And said, "By the way, I own this bar"

Then he winked at me and said, "Kid, I got a few more tips

But they sure ain't the kind that would fit in that jar"

You gotta treat people right on your ride up

They'll have your back on the way back down

He said, "Take it from this old beach bum, son

Keeping it real is what it's really about"

You can count your blessings, count yourself lucky

But every day you get above ground

Oh, that ain't about keeping count of what you got

It's making what you got count

He grabbed me by the arm and said

He said, "Real quick, boy, let me tell you this story

About this real rich dude I used to know real well

He owned all kinds of stuff but when he added it all up

He still felt like he was empty as hell"

He said, "Son, would you believe that

That dude was me back before I inventoried my life

Ah, just to live down here, selling shots and some beer

And, and dispensing some free advice"

Now treat people right on your ride up

They'll have your back on the way back down

He said, "Take it from this old beach bum, son

Keeping it real, that's what it's really about"

Count your blessings, count yourself lucky

Every day you get above ground

'Cause it ain't about keeping count of what you got

It's making what you got count

Oh, now I can't recollect how much I collected in my jar

And tonight I started getting to have a beer with my old friends

And when he saw those tour buses outside, he said

Now are your treating people right on your ride up?

They'll have your back on the way back down

He said, "Take it from this old beach bum, son

Yeah, keep it real, that's what it's really about"

And the best things in life, you can't put a price on

They don't come with no dollar or map, no

'Cause it ain't about keeping count of what you got

It's making what you got count

No, it ain't about keeping count of what you got

No, it all comes down to making what you got count

Make it count, that's what it comes down to, son

Tell your friends and be a friend

Count your blessings, don't count your problems