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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Trace Adkins
Trace Adkins
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Randy Houser
Randy Houser
Songwriter
Dallas Davidson
Dallas Davidson
Songwriter
Jamey Johnson
Jamey Johnson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Dann Huff
Dann Huff
Producer
Aaron Walk
Aaron Walk
Assistant Engineer
Adam Ayan
Adam Ayan
Mastering Engineer
Christopher Rowe
Christopher Rowe
Editing Engineer
Drew Bollman
Drew Bollman
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Jason Deere
Jason Deere
Mixing Engineer
Justin Niebank
Justin Niebank
Mixing Engineer
Lowell Reynolds
Lowell Reynolds
Assistant Engineer
Mark Hagen
Mark Hagen
Overdub Engineer
Mike Paragone
Mike Paragone
Assistant Engineer
Richard Dodd
Richard Dodd
Engineer
Seth Morton
Seth Morton
Assistant Engineer
Silvio Richetto
Silvio Richetto
Mixing Engineer
Steve Marcantonio
Steve Marcantonio
Engineer

Lyrics

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 Ohh, she put her beer down Here she comes, here she comes Left, left, left right left Woo Hustlers 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 ole boy, it ain't his fault It's so hard not to stare At that honky tonk badonkadonk Keepin' perfect rhythm, make ya 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 That honky tonk badonkadonk (Aww son) 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 'til three We hate to see her go But love to watch her leave With that honky tonk badonkadonk Keepin' perfect rhythm Make ya 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 badonkadonk (Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout right there, honey) We don't care about the drinkin' Barely listen to the band Our hands, they start a shakin' When she gets the urge to dance Drivin' everybody crazy You think you fell in love Boys, you better keep your distance You can look but you can't touch That honky tonk badonkadonk Keepin' perfect rhythm Make ya 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 That honky tonk badonkadonk That honky tonk badonkadonk Yeah, that honky tonk badonkadonk (That honky tonk badonkadonk) That's it, right there boys, that's why we do what we do It ain't for the money, it ain't for the glory, it ain't for the free whiskey It's for the badonkadonk (That honky tonk badonkadonk)
Writer(s): Dallas Davidson, Randy Houser, Jamey Johnson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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