Alright boys, this is her favorite song So, if we play it good and loud She might get up and dance again Ooh, she put her beer down Left left left right left
Husslers shootin' eightball Throwin' 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 badonkadonk Make ya wanna swing along Shut my mouth, slap your grandma Get the Sheriff on the phone Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on That honky tonk badonkadonk
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 But we're hangin' out till three But love to watch her leave With that honky tonk badonkadonk Make ya wanna swing along Shut my mouth, slap your grandma Get the Sheriff on the phone Lord have mercy, how's 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 bout the drinkin' Barely listen to the band Our hands, they start a shakin' When she gets the urge to dance You think you fell in love Boys, you better keep your distance You can look but you can't touch That honkey tonk badonkadonk Make ya wanna swing along Shut my mouth, slap your grandma Get the Sheriff on the phone Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on That honky tonk badonkadonk
That honky tonk badonkadonk Yeah, that honky tonk badonkadonk
That's it, right there boys, that's why we do what we do it ain't for the free whiskey