Brett Eldredge – Somethin’ I’m Good At (Brett Eldredge Album)

person Cuslifolder_openNexusaccess_time August 15, 2017

That I’m reading
Spin me around
I got my shades on
You said you’d never smile again, but oh no, here it comes
You said you’d never smile again, but oh no, here it comes
I can’t change the world, no I can’t change a flat
Like Jekyll & Hyde
I can’t change the world, no I can’t change a flat
Son of a bus
If you give me your heart, girl, well, you may never get it back
If you give me your heart, girl, well, you may never get it back
Jiffy Pop in the cooker
I can’t stop singin’
I finally found somethin’ I’m really good at
Would you look at that?
I’m a Titanic sinking down into that deep blue sea
Make me laugh till I cry
I’m havin’ way too much fun
You got me tongue tied
I got a poor sense of direction, sometimes too strong of affection
I’m ’bout to cuss
Would you look at that? (would you look at that?)
I ain’t a mover or a shaker, can’t keep up with the pacer
You thought it was over
If you give me your heart, girl, well, you may never get it back
I love I’m stricken’
I’m coming undone
I’m a real bad liar, I’m a burnt toast kinda guy
I finally found somethin’ I’m so good at
Turn me upside down
I’m such a lucky guy
I can’t change the world, no I can’t change a flat
I finally found somethin’ I’m good at
I’m born to run
You said you’d never smile again, but oh no, here it comes
Never met a dancefloor that ever did me any good
You said you’d never smile again, but oh no, here it comes
Or if I try to build a fire I’ll burn the woods
Damn you’re looker
I can’t change the world, no I can’t change a flat
I finally found somethin’ I’m good at
Would you look at that?
For a whiskey made in Lynchburg, Tennessee
Here comes the sun
You’re the apple of my eye
Would you look at that?
Oh my mine
Hahaha, cut
Spend all money on you all over this town
You’re the moon, you’re the sky
You’re the cane and the sugar
I’m flip flop flippin’
If you give me your heart, girl, well, you may never get it back
Till I think I’m gonna die
My tick tocks tickin’
If there’s a hole in my boat son, you bet that’s all she wrote
All cotton pickin’
You’re the author of the book

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