Trace Adkins

Turn it up some
All right boys, this is her favorite song, you know that, right
So, if we play it good and loud, she might get up and dance again
Ooh, she put her beer down, here she comes, here she comes
Left, left, left, right, left, whoo
Husslers shootin' eight-ball
Throwin' darts at the wall
Feelin' damn near ten feet tall
Here she comes, Lord help us all
Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him out his chair
Poor ol' boy, it ain't his fault, it's so hard not to stare
At that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm: make you wanna swing along
Got it goin' on like Donkey Kong
And ooh ee, shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law; get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
(Aw sorry)
Now, honey, you can't blame her
For what her Mama gave her
It ain't right to hate her
For workin' that money-maker
Band shuts down at two but we're hangin' out till three
We hate to see her go but love to watch her leave