Verse 1:
A dad pickin' up his daughter from school/
Embarrasses his little girl she thinks he ain’t cool/
Drops her off to her mother/
later on that night/
Misses her so much that he sits and he cries/
He drinks himself to sleep in his clothes no cover/
Never lets it be known he’s in love with her mother/
Wakes up hung over/
drags his tired ass to work/
His whole body aches never mind his head hurts/
3:30 comes around break time that’s a rule/
Calls up his daughter she should be getting home from school/
But her mom answers and says she’s not available to talk/
So he swallows his pride/
says thanks and hangs up/
And that kind of faith/
Is really something wonderful/
You’re either hateful/
or thankful and grateful/
It’s not the child’s fault the mom wasn’t faithful/
And I tell you it’s White Trash Beautiful/

Chorus:
It’s somethin’ strange/
Somethin’ unusual/
Comes from deep down inside something meaningful/
Hard to understand/
incomprehensible
Plain and simple it’s White Trash Beautiful/
It’s somethin’ strange/
Somethin’ unusual/
Comes from deep down inside something meaningful/
Hard to understand/
incomprehensible
Plain and simple it’s White Trash Beautiful/

Verse 2:
She gets through a long night bustin’ ass waitin’ tables/
Some call her a whore but she’s not much for labels/
Didn’t have many skills/
Did what she had to do/
Waitin’ tables wasn’t payin’ bills/
when the rent came due/
Mama was sick/
and Daddy wasn’t there/
Didn’t have a baby so she got no welfare/
She tried minimum wage/
but that wasn’t her thing/
Wanted to be a star/
but couldn’t act or sing/
But one things true ol’ girl looked good/
She stopped bangin’ for free because all money is good/
People started talkin’ but she could care less/
She paid mom’s medical bills/
and kept her in good health/
She stopped whorin’ and strippin’ and now years have past/
But every man that pass only remember her past/
So she counts her tips/
And closes as usual/
And that kind of pride is just White Trash Beautiful/
 
Chorus

Verse 3:
Little man in hand-me-downs walkin’ every morning to class/
The kids all laugh at him/
and call him White Trash/
His dad shaves his head/
Cause they can’t afford a haircut/
Other kids stop and stare but/
he doesn’t give a fuck/
He gets pushed around and spit on/
When he’s walkin’ through the halls/
He swears things’ll be different next fall/
Sits on the back of the bus and plots his revenge/
He swears one day/
he’ll be better than all them/
So when he gets home/
He hits the books/
But it’s hard to concentrate/
through mom and dad’s dirty drunken looks/
Bottle after bottle and doin’ line after line/
He lays his sister down cause it’s nine and bedtime/
He closes his eyes/
and he says his prayers/
He doesn’t know God but Grandma swore that he was there/
And he believed her/
All the way to her funeral/
And that kind of faith is just White Trash Beautiful/

Chorus