(Mm-hmm, yeah) Sunday shoes and a crooked tie, Gonna meet her dad and I don't know why. (oh no) Got my flowers, they’re half alive, But it’s the thought that counts—right? He opened the door, with that look in his eyes, Like I’m the storm rolling in his sky. He said “Boy, what do you do?” I said “Sir, I write songs… mostly about you.” (oops) He said “Don’t you play that reggae stuff, My daughter needs a man that’s tough!” I smiled and said, “Well maybe so, But she still dances when I say—let’s go!” Why you gotta hate my groove? I just wanna dance with you. Ain’t tryna break no rules, Love’s just got its own tune. Why you gotta hate my groove? Dinner’s cold and the jokes don’t land, Spilled my drink, now he hates my hands. She’s kickin’ me under the table, twice, Guess that’s her way of sayin’ “Be nice.” He said “Son, you ain’t the one.” I said “Guess that makes this more fun.” He said “Boy, you better move along.” But she’s hummin’ my brand new song. Why you gotta hate my groove? I just wanna dance with you. Ain’t tryna break no rules, Love’s just got its own tune. Why you gotta hate my groove? He’s frownin’, I’m singin’, she’s smilin’ wide, Now he’s tappin’ his foot, tryin’ to hide. Said “Fine, you can see her, but don’t be late.” I said “No worries, sir… we’ll elope at eight.” (oh!) Why you gotta hate my groove? I just wanna dance with you. Ain’t tryna break no rules, Love’s just got its own tune. Why you gotta hate my groove? Love’s a little rude, But it’s got a sweet tune too.
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