Uh-huh
Well, I heard you from across the bar
Over clinkin’ glasses like a work of art
I’m a sucker for an accent from somewhere far
Can ya blame me?
I’m a California girl with a Southern heart
And I don’t know your first or your last name, baby
If you’re going home to a hometown lady
The way you grip the can I can tell you’re just my type
You like, you like
Workin’ with your hands ’til they’re covered in grease
Fixin’ up your Bronco in the Tennessee heat
Something dirty on my mind and you got dirt on your jeans
Well I’m a little broken, baby
Could you work on me?
Could you work on me? Ah, yeah
Well, my heart’s been through the mud
A couple assholes before you kinda fuck me up
What’s the worst that can happen from a little fun?
I’m a real smart girl who likes getting a little dumb
I don’t need to know your first and last name, baby
If you’re going home to a hometown lady
Longhorn on your buckle, I can tell you’re just my type
You like, you like
Workin’ with your hands ’til they’re covered in grease
Fixin’ up your Bronco in the Tennessee heat
Something dirty on my mind and you got dirt on your jeans
Well, I’m a little broken, baby
Could you work on—
A body needing something to make it feel brand new?
I’m a couple shots deep and a couple screws loose
Something dirty on my mind and you got dirt on your jeans
Well, I’m a lil’ broken, baby
Could you work on me?
Could you work on me? Mm
Could you work on me? No, no
I’m a little broken, baby
Could you work on me?
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