Credits
AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Kid Rock
Stimme und Gesang
Dave Cohen
Tasteninstrumente
Derek Wells
E-Gitarre
Herchel Boone
Begleitgesang
Jerry Roe
Schlagzeug
Jimmie Lee Sloas
Bass
Marlon Young
E-Gitarre
Rob McNeiley
Gitarre
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Catt Gravitt
Songwriter:in
Tim Montana
Songwriter:in
Kid Rock
Songwriter:in
R.J.Ritchie
Songwriter:in
Robert J. Ritchie
Arrangeur:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Brian David Willis
Schnitttechniker:in
Drew Bollman
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Justin Niebank
Mischtechniker:in
Kam Luchterhand
Aufnahmeingenieurassistent:in
Kid Rock
Produzent:in
Mike Clark
Aufnahmeingenieurassistent:in
Ted Jensen
Mastering-Ingenieur:in
Trey Keller
Schnitttechniker:in
Songtexte
Palm trees and beautiful hips
Man, it doesn't get any better than this
The sun settin' like fire on the viper room
Old Lemmy holed up at the bar
And Johnny Depp pickin' on an old guitar
Man I wish old Keith would've taught 'em how to keep it in tune
I came here lookin' for love
But all I found was sex and drugs
Strung out, broke down, homesick and thinkin' of you
There ain't nothin' like a Tennessee mountain top
Some straight shootin' neighbors that don't name-drop
With a preacher man prayin' for peace but
Still packin' a gun (you better ask somebody)
Singing karaoke in a double wide
With smoke so thick it'll burn your eyes
Oh-oh, my sweet Lord, I'll warn ya
Fall in love with an angel
You'll end up in California
High tide, I felt so alive
'Til I spent six hours on the 405
In a jacked up rocky ridge straight rollin' coal
But then I, I turned up the radio
And heard a bunch of - it's got no soul
All pop and hip-hop but no damn rock 'n roll (no rock 'n roll)
I came here lookin' for love
But ended up on a bathroom rug
On my knees prayin', "God please see me through" (please see me through)
There ain't nothin' like a Tennessee mountain top
Some straight shootin' neighbors that don't name-drop
With a preacher man prayin' for peace but
Still packin' a gun (you better ask somebody)
Singing karaoke in a double wide
With smoke so thick it'll burn your eyes
Oh-oh, my sweet Lord, I'll warn ya
Fall in love with an angel
You'll end up in California
There ain't nothin' like a Tennessee mountain top
Some straight shootin' neighbors that don't name-drop
With a preacher man prayin' for peace but
Still packin' a gun (you better ask somebody)
Singing karaoke in a double wide
Some sweet southern sugar right by my side
Oh-oh, my sweet Lord, I'll warn ya
Fall in love with an angel
Fall in love with an angel, yeah
Fall in love, fall in love, fall in love, love, love
With an angel
Writer(s): Cathy Gravitt, Robert Ritchie, Tim Montana
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