You've got a girl at home, And everybody knows that, Everybody knows that, Don't look at me, Ah ah, don't look at me, Everybody knows that. And it would be a fine proposition, If I was a stupid girl, I see you turn off your phone,

Oh, the trouble with love Everybody knows it's the best kind, too It'll get you in deep, yeah, it always does Oh, but the trouble's gonna find you Oh, but I got no trouble with love Oh, and that's the trouble with love The trouble with time is that you

Hands held higher We'll be on fire Does it bother anyone else Down in the forest We'll sing a chorus Singing songs that nobody wrote That someone else has your name? One that everybody knows I scream, you scream, we all scream

Everybody dies famous in a small town Every grandma, in-law, ex-girlfriend maybe knows it just a little too well Whether you're late for church or you're stuck in jail Hey, word's gonna get around Every last one, route one, rural heart's got a story to

Hell, that's alright with me I like whiskey and tight denim On good-hearted women And for that I make no apologies Call me country, call me hippie A wildcat from Dixie And if you do or don't like what you see Everybody knows I like whiskey Preferably

Get your party right, it's a Friday night Lime on the rim of that dixie silver Smokin' up a faded out 4x4 I brought the songs and you brought the party Only one way to do it up right Everybody goes where eveybody knows That anything goes on a Friday

The kind that everybody knows...yeah yeah She finer than a painted rose...yeah yeah Sunshine...yeah My sunshine I sold my soul for a one night stand I followed Alice into Wonderland I ate the mushroom and I danced with the queen Yeah we danced in between

You, oh, oh, you, oh, oh Baby, this is what you came for Lightning strikes every time she moves And everybody's watching her But she's looking at you, oh, oh You, oh, oh We go fast till they can't replay Who knows why it's gotta be this way

Like me and my down home boys Down here we keep the good times flowing, Red dirt flying, and the radio going We got each other's back and everybody knows it, Yeah me and my down home boys Know how to show a town what's up We pass it around then fill it

Nobody's perfect! Everybody makes mistakes You live and you learn it! Nobody's perfect Everybody knows what I'm talkin' 'bout I gotta work it! I gotta work it! (work it!) And if I'm messing up sometimes Everybody knows what, what I'm talkin' 'bout