Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on

Honky Tonk Badonkadonk

Trace Adkins

www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNVguvNE7qc

 

Turn it up some

Alright 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

 

Aah, she put her beer down

Here she comes, here she comes

Left left left right left, whoo

Husslers shootin' eightball

Throwing darts at the wall

Feelin' damn near 10 ft. tall

Here she comes, Lord help us all

Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him outta his chair

Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault

It's so hard not to stare

At that honky tonk badonkydonk

Keepin' perfect rhythm

Make you wanna swing along

Got it goin' on

Like Donkey Kong

And whoo-wee

Shut my mouth, slap your grandma

There oughta be a law

Get the Sheriff on the phone

Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on

With that honky tonk badonkydonk (aww son)

 

Now Honey, you can't blame her

For what her momma 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

With that honky tonk badonkydonk

Now keepin' perfect rhythm

Make you wanna swing along

Got it goin' on

Like Donkey Kong

And whoo-wee

Shut my mouth, slap your grandma

There oughta be a law

Get the Sheriff on the phone

Lord have mercy, how'd she even get them britches on

With that honky tonk badonkydonk

 

(Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' about right there, honey)

 

 

Songwriters: Jamey Johnson, Randy Houser, Dallas Davidson

 

Done