Some girls they act retarded Bumpin' and grindin' that pole We 'bout to have a party (turn the music up) Let's get it started (Go head shake your butt) I'm lookin' for a girl with a body and a sexy strut Wanna get it poppin' baby step right up Some girls

Wanna keep you turned up, baby, keep you turned on 'Cause you're my party song I wanna keep you turned up, baby, keep you turned on You're my party song Knocking me down with that little beat you're thumpin' Keeping that king cab thumping And, girl, I

When I was Jack and you were Diane Does it make you laugh Every time you hear that song Do you close your eyes Do the memories take you back Six packs and a Chevy Cheyenne Do you turn it up Do you sing along

Never mind I'll find someone like you Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead Don't forget me I beg, I'll remember you said I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited but I Couldn't stay away I couldn't fight it Sometimes it lasts in

Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up Come Mr. DJ song pon de replay All the gyal pon the dance floor wantin' some more Please Mr. DJ Tell me if you hear me Everybody get down if you feel me It goes one by one even two by two Come run, run, run, run

I wrote my way out When the world turned its back on me I was up against the wall I had no foundation No friends and no family to catch my fall I picked up a pen And wrote my way out (I wrote my way out) I picked up the pen like Hamilton Running on

Everything I touch turns to ashes Falls away, it falls away It slips right through my hands Love me, hate me Isolate me everyday that I'm alive Straight up mentally unstable You don't have to like my life You don't understand me, And you probably never

Whiskey in your glass, here's to turning up, Slowing down and cars that go real fast, We were laughing and living, drinking and wishing, And thinking as that checkered flag was waving, Sure would like to stay in Talladega (Talladega) It was the summer

Playa, turn your head round Wake up, open the door Lay on the floor, you've been robbed Playa playa (hater), Playa playa (hater) Playa hater (hater) Playa hater (hater) Thank you, thank you very much Good evening And for my last hit

The forecast calls for pain Coffee for my breakfast Shot of whiskey on the side It's a dark and dreary morning With the clouds covering up the sky My baby's turning cold And the forecast calls for pain