In high heels she's 5 foot 3 lean and mean with a tattoo sleeve.
Hell on wheels for tiny thing yeah she can pack a punch.
She rocks out on the countryside got Harley hog and a double wide.
Her sweet heart's packed in dynamite she shoots whiskey and a gun.
When she gets an itchin' to get out the kitchen and wrangle up some fun
She likes to crank it with the bottom end thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin.
She likes to crank it.
Sunday morning 10 am. Smells of gin and a night of sin.
In the pew up front again she shouts hallelujah.
The congregation comes alive when she gets up to testify, the whole church is electrified, hey look out here she comes.
There's so much conviction in her benediction the choir ain't loud enough.
She likes to crank it with the bible belt thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin'
She likes to crank it.
She likes to crank it
She wears tie dye shirts and John Deere hats got a peace sign sticker on her gun rack.
She likes old time country and metal too. She's Joann Jett in cowgirl boots.
Her halo is slightly bent, a little crooked but it still fits.
The contradiction of many things, a little devil with angels wings.
She likes to crank it with the bottom end thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin'. When she gets to rollin' the whole world starts quakin' she likes to crank it.
She likes to crank it.
Crank it!
Mark Blomsteel - Crank It Lyrics
Mark Blomsteel - Crank It Lyrics
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In high heels she's 5 foot 3 lean and mean with a tattoo sleeve.
Hell on wheels for tiny thing yeah she can pack a punch.
She rocks out on the countryside got Harley hog and a double wide.
Her sweet heart's packed in dynamite she shoots whiskey and a gun.
When she gets an itchin' to get out the kitchen and wrangle up some fun
She likes to crank it with the bottom end thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin.
She likes to crank it.
Sunday morning 10 am. Smells of gin and a night of sin.
In the pew up front again she shouts hallelujah.
The congregation comes alive when she gets up to testify, the whole church is electrified, hey look out here she comes.
There's so much conviction in her benediction the choir ain't loud enough.
She likes to crank it with the bible belt thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin'
She likes to crank it.
She likes to crank it
She wears tie dye shirts and John Deere hats got a peace sign sticker on her gun rack.
She likes old time country and metal too. She's Joann Jett in cowgirl boots.
Her halo is slightly bent, a little crooked but it still fits.
The contradiction of many things, a little devil with angels wings.
She likes to crank it with the bottom end thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin'. When she gets to rollin' the whole world starts quakin' she likes to crank it.
She likes to crank it.
Crank it!
Hell on wheels for tiny thing yeah she can pack a punch.
She rocks out on the countryside got Harley hog and a double wide.
Her sweet heart's packed in dynamite she shoots whiskey and a gun.
When she gets an itchin' to get out the kitchen and wrangle up some fun
She likes to crank it with the bottom end thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin.
She likes to crank it.
Sunday morning 10 am. Smells of gin and a night of sin.
In the pew up front again she shouts hallelujah.
The congregation comes alive when she gets up to testify, the whole church is electrified, hey look out here she comes.
There's so much conviction in her benediction the choir ain't loud enough.
She likes to crank it with the bible belt thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin'
She likes to crank it.
She likes to crank it
She wears tie dye shirts and John Deere hats got a peace sign sticker on her gun rack.
She likes old time country and metal too. She's Joann Jett in cowgirl boots.
Her halo is slightly bent, a little crooked but it still fits.
The contradiction of many things, a little devil with angels wings.
She likes to crank it with the bottom end thumpin' rattle the walls and get the place jumpin'.
Bust out the windows blow off the dust and bring the roof down.
Crank it, crank it up loud crank up the juice and pump up the crowd.
She knows how to get the party shakin'. When she gets to rollin' the whole world starts quakin' she likes to crank it.
She likes to crank it.
Crank it!
Writer: BRIAN ECKERT, KEVIN RAY, RYAN WEAVER
Copyright: Lyrics © Hipgnosis Songs Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Hipgnosis Songs Group