I've got to tell you, there are, there are certain things that have grounded me over the years, music being one of them. I grew up in an area where we leaned on certain things as a community. We leaned on family, we leaned on school, church, and sports, and that is all we have. And I see that in a lot of your faces out there tonight. And I want to tell you, it's an honor to play this song. I feel that chill, smell that fresh cut grass. I'm back in my helmet, cleats, and shoulder pads. Standin' in the huddle, listenin' to the call. Fans goin' crazy for the boys to fall. Didn't let just anybody in that club. Took every ounce of hard sweat and blood. To get to where those game day jerseys down the hall. Kings of the school, man, where the boys will fall. Where it's turnin' faces, stars, and straps. It's fightin' back with them butterflies. It's callin' in the air, all right. Yes, sir, we want the ball. And it's knockin' heads and talkin' trash. It's slingin' mud and dirt and grass. It's I got your number, I got your back. When your back's against the wall, you mess with one man. And you got us all, the boys will fall. In little towns like mine, that's all they got. Newspaper clippings fill the coffee shops. The old men will always think they know it all. Young girls will dream about the boys will fall. Where it's turnin' faces, stars, and straps. It's fightin' back with them butterflies. It's callin' in the air, all right. Yes, sir, we want the ball. And it's knockin' heads and talkin' trash. It's slingin' mud and dirt and grass. It's I got your number, I got your back. When your back's against the wall, you mess with one man. And you got us all, the boys will fall. Where it's turnin' faces, stars, and straps. It's fightin' back with them butterflies. It's callin' in the air, all right. Yes, sir, we want the ball. And it's knockin' heads and talkin' trash. It's slingin' mud and dirt and grass. It's I got your number, I got your back. When your back's against the wall, you mess with one man. And you got us all, the boys will fall. And it's knockin' heads and talkin' trash. It's slingin' mud and dirt and grass. The boys will fall. Where the boys will fall. Green Bay, Wisconsin. Lambeau Field. I can't begin to tell you what an honor and a thrill it is to sing that song in a stadium, in a state, in a city where football means so much to so many. We love you. We love you. We love you.