Crédits
INTERPRÉTATION
Scotty McCreery
Voix principales
Derek Wells
Guitare électrique
David Dorn
Piano
Ilya Toshinskiy
Guitare acoustique
Jimmie Lee Sloas
Basse
Shannon Forrest
Batterie
Wes Hightower
Chœurs
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Scotty McCreery
Paroles/Composition
Jordan Schmidt
Paroles/Composition
James McNair
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Frank Rogers
Production
Derek Wells
Production
Aaron Eshuis
Production
Justin Niebank
Ingénierie de mixage
Bryce Roberts
Assistance d’ingénierie de prise de son
Sean R. Badum
Assistance d’ingénierie de prise de son
Drew Bollman
Assistance d’ingénierie de mixage
Andrew Mendelson
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Brian David Willis
Ingénierie de montage
Paroles
Got a party at 8:00, it's 7:53
Keys in my hand, somewhere to be
And you come strolling down the stairs
You got that up-to-somethin' look on your face
Looks like we are gonna be fashionably late
But you don't seem to care, so
I set down my whiskey and you kiss me
You lean your back against the wall
When we walk in and it's past ten
I'ma tell 'em it's your fault
Baby, why you gotta wear them jeans
Hair down and a white tank top?
Baby, why you gotta be so mean?
Looking so good, I can't stop
My hands from touchin' your body
You know I love it but I got to ask
Baby, why? Baby, why?
Baby, why you gotta be like that?
I'm so predictable, it's like you know
That denim and low cut combo
With the fire in your eyes
Gonna get me every time
It's been like that since we met
You keep messing with my head
You love to play that game
And I hate to complain but
Baby, why you gotta wear them jeans
Hair down and a white tank top?
Baby, why you gotta be so mean?
Looking so good, I can't stop
My hands from touchin' your body
You know I love it but I got to ask
Baby, why? Baby, why?
Baby, why you gotta be like that?
Whoa, oh
Why you gotta be like that?
I set down my whiskey and you kiss me
You lean your back against the wall
When we walk in and it's past ten
I'ma tell 'em it's your fault
Baby, why you gotta wear them jeans
Hair down and a white tank top?
Baby, why you gotta be so mean?
Looking so good, I can't stop
My hands from touchin' your body
You know I love it but I got to ask
Baby, why? Baby, why?
Baby, why you gotta be like that?
Whoa, oh
Why you gotta be like that?
Whoa, oh
Baby, why you gotta be like that?
Baby, why? Baby, why?
Baby, why? Baby, why?
Writer(s): Scotty Mccreery, James Mcnair, Jordan Schmidt
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