“Scroll down to the end of the article to listen to music.”

Introduction

As a song that epitomizes the high-energy, carefree spirit of contemporary country music, “This Is How We Roll” resonates with many. Its title alone evokes memories of endless summer nights, driving down dusty roads with friends, windows down, and music blasting. For many fans, it captures the essence of youth and freedom—a soundtrack to adventures that many cherish as a symbol of their best days.

About The Composition

  • Title: This Is How We Roll
  • Composers: Luke Bryan, Tyler Hubbard, Brian Kelley, Cole Swindell
  • Premiere Date: November 26, 2013
  • Album/Opus/Collection: Here’s to the Good Times…This Is How We Roll
  • Genre: Country, specifically Bro-country

Background

“This Is How We Roll” was originally a track from Florida Georgia Line’s album, featuring country music superstar Luke Bryan. The song emerged from a collaboration that highlights the camaraderie and shared musical vision between these artists. It represents a significant phase in the ‘Bro-country’ movement, characterized by its blend of rock, hip-hop, and electronic influences within traditional country music. The track was a commercial success, embraced widely for its catchy melody and quintessentially carefree lyrics, capturing the lifestyle and cultural ethos of a generation.

Musical Style

The song is marked by its robust, anthemic quality, designed to be an upbeat soundtrack perfect for lively social gatherings. Its instrumentation includes electric guitars and a prominent drum beat, creating a robust sound that complements its high-energy vocals. The structure is catchy, with a chorus that invites listeners to sing along, making it a staple in country music playlists at parties and events.

Lyrics/Libretto

The lyrics of “This Is How We Roll” celebrate life on the road and the freedom associated with it, typical of the Bro-country genre. Themes of friendship, adventure, and carefree living are prevalent, resonating with fans who find joy in the simple pleasures of life—like rolling down a backroad with friends or celebrating the weekend in the country.

Performance History

Since its release, “This Is How We Roll” has enjoyed immense popularity in live performances, particularly at country music festivals where Florida Georgia Line and Luke Bryan have featured it prominently. Its reception has consistently been enthusiastic, further cementing its place in contemporary country music.

Cultural Impact

The song’s influence extends beyond music; it has become a cultural icon for a segment of youth that identifies with its themes. Its impact is seen in its frequent use in films, commercials, and television shows that aim to evoke a sense of freedom and fun, aligning with the song’s spirit.

Legacy

“This Is How We Roll” remains a defining piece in the careers of Florida Georgia Line and Luke Bryan, often cited by fans and critics alike as a highlight. Its ongoing popularity at concerts and its regular play on country music stations underscore its lasting appeal and its role in shaping the modern country music landscape.

Conclusion

“This Is How We Roll” is more than just a song; it’s a celebration of life’s joyful, unrestrained moments. For anyone looking to recapture the spirit of youthful exuberance or seeking a musical escape into the world of country fun, this track is a must-listen. Whether at a live concert or through your speakers at home, it’s guaranteed to lift spirits and invite you to roll down those windows and just enjoy the ride.

Video

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Florida Georgia Line]
The mixtape’s got a little Hank, little Drake
A little somethin’ bumpin’, thumb thumpin’ on the wheel right
The mix in our drink’s a little stronger than you think
So get a grip, take a sip of that feel right
Trucks jacked up, flat bills flipped back
Yeah, you can find us where the party’s at

[Chorus: Florida Georgia Line]
This is how we roll
We hangin’ ’round, singin’ out everything on the radio
We light it up with our hands up
This is how we roll, this is how we do
We burnin’ down the night, shootin’ bullets at the moon
Baby, this is how we roll

[Verse 2: Florida Georgia Line]
Yeah, baby, this is how we roll, we rollin’ into town
With nothin’ else to do, we take another lap around
Yeah, holla at your boy if you need a ride
If you roll with me, yeah, you know we rollin’ high
Up on them 37 Nittos, windows tinted, hard to see though
How fresh my baby is in the shotgun seat, oh
Them kisses are for me though, automatic like a free throw
This life I live, it might not be for you, but it’s for me though, let’s roll

[Chorus: Florida Georgia Line]
This is how we roll
We hangin’ ’round, singin’ out everything on the radio
We light it up with our hands up
This is how we roll, this is how we do
When the world turns ugly, I just turn and look at you
Baby, this is how we roll

[Guitar Solo]

[Bridge: Luke Bryan & Florida Georgia Line]
And we gon’ sing it to ’em
Yeah, we’re proud to be young, we stick to our guns
We love who we love and we wanna have fun
Yeah, we cuss on them Mondays and pray on them Sundays
Pass it around and we dream about one day

[Chorus: Luke Byran & Florida Georgia Line]
‘Cause this is how we roll (Come on, y’all)
We hangin’ ’round, singin’ out everything on the radio
(Get your hands up, get your hands up, get your hands up)
We light it up with our hands up (Aw, yeah)
This is how we roll, this is how we ride
We slangin’ up the mud, cuttin’ through the country side
Baby, this is how we roll
[Outro: Florida Georgia Line & Luke Bryan]
Yeah, this is how we roll (This is how we roll)
Yeah, baby (How we roll)
Yo, LB, let’s go (Yeah, this is how we roll)
This how we roll, this is how we do
We burnin’ down the night, shootin’ bullets at the moon (Aw, yeah)
Baby, this is how we roll (BK, Tyler)
LB, baby, one more time boys, let’s go
Yeah, this is how we roll (This is how we roll)

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GARY STEWART’S ONLY NO. 1 HIT WAS ABOUT A MAN DRINKING THROUGH A COLLAPSING RELATIONSHIP. YEARS LATER, THE DARKNESS IN HIS RECORDS WOULD BEGIN TO LOOK FAR TOO MUCH LIKE HIS OWN LIFE. Gary Stewart did not sound like the smooth Nashville country dominating much of the 1970s. Born in Kentucky and raised in Florida, he developed a high, quivering voice that seemed permanently on the edge of breaking. Before his own breakthrough, Stewart and songwriting partner Bill Eldridge placed songs with artists including Stonewall Jackson and Cal Smith. RCA signed him as an artist in the early 1970s. The label initially struggled to find a clear direction, but Stewart’s fortunes changed when producer Roy Dea leaned into the harder honky-tonk sound that suited him best. In 1974, “Drinkin’ Thing” reached the Top 10. Then came “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles).” Written by Wayne Carson, the song placed Stewart inside a failing relationship where the woman was behaving as though she were unattached and the man responded by drinking twice as hard. Stewart’s strained delivery made the lyric sound less like clever wordplay than a nervous breakdown happening in real time. In 1975, it went to No. 1. The album *Out of Hand* produced three major hits and later came to be regarded as one of the strongest hard-country albums of the decade. For a moment, Stewart had carved out a space between traditional honky-tonk and the emerging outlaw audience. But the instability in his records was not purely theatrical. As the decade progressed, Stewart struggled increasingly with alcohol and drugs. Personal losses compounded the problem, and by the 1980s his recording career had slowed sharply. He eventually returned to performing and recording, retaining a devoted audience that had never forgotten the rawness of those RCA records. Then, in December 2003, Stewart’s wife of more than four decades, Mary Lou, died of pneumonia. Less than a month later, Gary Stewart died by suicide at his Florida home. His reputation had never depended on polish. What listeners remembered was the feeling that every syllable might come apart before the band reached the next measure—and that, somehow, Stewart always held it together just long enough to finish the song.

IRA LOUVIN SANG SOME OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S MOST BEAUTIFUL HARMONIES ABOUT SIN AND SALVATION. OFFSTAGE, HIS OWN LIFE WAS COLLAPSING UNDER ALCOHOL, RAGE—AND A SHOOTING THAT NEARLY KILLED HIM. The Louvin Brothers sounded almost impossibly pure together. Ira Louvin sang lead and played mandolin; Charlie supplied the harmony and guitar. By the mid-1950s, songs such as “When I Stop Dreaming,” “I Don’t Believe You’ve Met My Baby,” and “Cash on the Barrel Head” had made them one of country music’s most important brother duos. But the man singing those high, tightly controlled parts was becoming much harder to control away from the microphone. Ira struggled heavily with alcohol and a violent temper. As the drinking worsened, so did the tension between the brothers. Charlie later described a partnership in which the harmony could still lock perfectly onstage even when the two men were barely getting along off it. The contrast became brutal after the duo broke up in 1963. Not long afterward, during an alcohol-fueled fight with his third wife, Faye, Ira was shot and nearly killed. He survived and returned to performing, later singing with his fourth wife, Anne Young. The comeback did not last long. In June 1965, Ira and Anne were traveling after a week of performances in Kansas City when their car collided head-on with another vehicle near Williamsburg, Missouri. Both were killed. Ira was forty-one. Charlie continued alone, but the Louvin Brothers were finished for good. Their records survived because the voices made pain sound ordered, almost sacred. Ira’s private life had been anything but. That may be why the old performances still feel so unsettling: the man warning about sin and destruction was not singing from a safe distance from either one.

MEL STREET SPENT THE 1970S SINGING ABOUT CHEATING, LONELINESS, AND MEN WHO COULDN’T HOLD THEIR LIVES TOGETHER. THEN, JUST AS MERCURY GAVE HIM HIS BIGGEST LABEL OPPORTUNITY, HE DIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY. Mel Street had taken a long route to Nashville. Raised in southwestern Virginia, he worked as a radio-tower electrician, sang in clubs around Niagara Falls, then returned to West Virginia and opened an auto-body shop. From 1968 to 1972, he also hosted a local television show in Bluefield. His breakthrough came from a song he had written himself. “Borrowed Angel” was first recorded for a small regional label and later picked up for wider release. In 1972, it reached the country Top 10, giving Street his first national hit. “Lovin’ on Back Streets” followed and became his biggest chart record, reaching No. 5. The songs established his territory. Street specialized in men already standing on the wrong side of a decision: affairs, guilt, secret meetings, marriages breaking down, and the loneliness left afterward. “I Met a Friend of Yours Today,” “Forbidden Angel,” and “If I Had a Cheating Heart” kept that voice on country radio through the middle of the decade. But touring and family pressure were taking a toll. Accounts of Street’s final years describe serious depression and alcohol problems even as his career continued moving forward. In 1978, he signed a new contract with Mercury Records, a major opportunity that suggested another step up was still possible. On October 21, 1978—his birthday—Mel Street died by suicide at his home in Tennessee. Contemporary and later sources disagree over his exact birth year, but not the date: he died on the same calendar day on which he had been born. His career did not stop immediately on the charts. “Just Hangin’ On” and other recordings appeared posthumously, while “Borrowed Angel” continued growing into a honky-tonk standard. Street never reached the level of fame that George Jones, Merle Haggard, or Conway Twitty did. But his best records shared something with theirs: they did not ask whether the man in the song deserved sympathy. They simply put him in the room, closed the door, and let the consequences stay with him.

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IRA LOUVIN SANG SOME OF COUNTRY MUSIC’S MOST BEAUTIFUL HARMONIES ABOUT SIN AND SALVATION. OFFSTAGE, HIS OWN LIFE WAS COLLAPSING UNDER ALCOHOL, RAGE—AND A SHOOTING THAT NEARLY KILLED HIM. The Louvin Brothers sounded almost impossibly pure together. Ira Louvin sang lead and played mandolin; Charlie supplied the harmony and guitar. By the mid-1950s, songs such as “When I Stop Dreaming,” “I Don’t Believe You’ve Met My Baby,” and “Cash on the Barrel Head” had made them one of country music’s most important brother duos. But the man singing those high, tightly controlled parts was becoming much harder to control away from the microphone. Ira struggled heavily with alcohol and a violent temper. As the drinking worsened, so did the tension between the brothers. Charlie later described a partnership in which the harmony could still lock perfectly onstage even when the two men were barely getting along off it. The contrast became brutal after the duo broke up in 1963. Not long afterward, during an alcohol-fueled fight with his third wife, Faye, Ira was shot and nearly killed. He survived and returned to performing, later singing with his fourth wife, Anne Young. The comeback did not last long. In June 1965, Ira and Anne were traveling after a week of performances in Kansas City when their car collided head-on with another vehicle near Williamsburg, Missouri. Both were killed. Ira was forty-one. Charlie continued alone, but the Louvin Brothers were finished for good. Their records survived because the voices made pain sound ordered, almost sacred. Ira’s private life had been anything but. That may be why the old performances still feel so unsettling: the man warning about sin and destruction was not singing from a safe distance from either one.

MEL STREET SPENT THE 1970S SINGING ABOUT CHEATING, LONELINESS, AND MEN WHO COULDN’T HOLD THEIR LIVES TOGETHER. THEN, JUST AS MERCURY GAVE HIM HIS BIGGEST LABEL OPPORTUNITY, HE DIED ON HIS BIRTHDAY. Mel Street had taken a long route to Nashville. Raised in southwestern Virginia, he worked as a radio-tower electrician, sang in clubs around Niagara Falls, then returned to West Virginia and opened an auto-body shop. From 1968 to 1972, he also hosted a local television show in Bluefield. His breakthrough came from a song he had written himself. “Borrowed Angel” was first recorded for a small regional label and later picked up for wider release. In 1972, it reached the country Top 10, giving Street his first national hit. “Lovin’ on Back Streets” followed and became his biggest chart record, reaching No. 5. The songs established his territory. Street specialized in men already standing on the wrong side of a decision: affairs, guilt, secret meetings, marriages breaking down, and the loneliness left afterward. “I Met a Friend of Yours Today,” “Forbidden Angel,” and “If I Had a Cheating Heart” kept that voice on country radio through the middle of the decade. But touring and family pressure were taking a toll. Accounts of Street’s final years describe serious depression and alcohol problems even as his career continued moving forward. In 1978, he signed a new contract with Mercury Records, a major opportunity that suggested another step up was still possible. On October 21, 1978—his birthday—Mel Street died by suicide at his home in Tennessee. Contemporary and later sources disagree over his exact birth year, but not the date: he died on the same calendar day on which he had been born. His career did not stop immediately on the charts. “Just Hangin’ On” and other recordings appeared posthumously, while “Borrowed Angel” continued growing into a honky-tonk standard. Street never reached the level of fame that George Jones, Merle Haggard, or Conway Twitty did. But his best records shared something with theirs: they did not ask whether the man in the song deserved sympathy. They simply put him in the room, closed the door, and let the consequences stay with him.

MARTY ROBBINS WAS RECORDING “DON’T WORRY” WHEN A CHANNEL IN THE NASHVILLE CONSOLE MALFUNCTIONED. GRADY MARTIN’S CLEAN SIX-STRING BASS CAME BACK AS A HARSH BUZZ—AND THEY KEPT IT. By 1960, Grady Martin was already one of Nashville’s most trusted session musicians. He had played the elegant Spanish-style guitar on Marty Robbins’s “El Paso,” worked with Johnny Horton, Patsy Cline, Conway Twitty and countless others, and belonged to the group of studio players later known as Nashville’s A-Team. Then one malfunction changed the sound of popular music. During a July 1960 session for Robbins’s “Don’t Worry” at the Quonset Hut, Martin plugged his Danelectro six-string bass directly into the recording console. One of the console’s transformers failed while he played, turning the normally clean instrument into a thick, distorted growl. When engineer Glenn Snoddy and producer Don Law heard the playback, they did not erase it. They kept the damaged sound in the record. Released in 1961, “Don’t Worry” went to No. 1 country and No. 3 pop. Suddenly musicians were asking Nashville studios how they could get that strange distortion for themselves. Martin went back through the same faulty circuit for instrumentals including “The Fuzz.” But eventually the broken channel died completely. Snoddy then set out to reproduce the accident deliberately. Working with engineer Revis Hobbs, he built a transistor circuit that imitated the distorted signal and sold the design to Gibson. In 1962, Gibson introduced it as the Maestro FZ-1 Fuzz-Tone. At first, the pedal barely sold. Three years later, Keith Richards used a Maestro Fuzz-Tone for the riff on the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” Sales exploded, and fuzz became one of electric guitar’s defining effects. Grady Martin never needed the accident to establish his career; he was already one of Nashville’s elite musicians. But hidden inside a Marty Robbins country ballad was a sound that rock guitarists would spend the next several decades pushing louder, dirtier and further from the clean note Martin had originally intended to play.