Hank Snow - Peach Pickin' Time In Georgia paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson Peach Pickin' Time In Georgia - Hank Snow



As we're holding hands
Kiss your neck and dance
We're may beliefs
Together
We laugh and cry, and dance the night
In may beliefs
The taste of your lips
And the way your wear your hair
And the solar eclipse
As we stand and we glare
Lalala, dadada, la (coughs)
Scarf and a gold teeth, crooked the villain
As false mythical spirit to make her suck it
You see a lot of girls play to pretend
When the spilled ink leaks to the bottom of the pen
He with the microphone, should have been a gym coach
Swap bad grades for Chanel and designer coke
I used to kiss her, way before the blister
Fattest ass cheeks, and ran a train on her sister
Fickle like the nickle, shine beaming on her green stone
Laces with the hole, and a sticker made of fresh scones
My best friend, my very best coochie
Not a class clown, but appeared real groovy
And yeah, we had sex all over in the bathroom
Shades on, packing like a rascal out in Cancun
And can you blame him, growing up a lost soul?
So damn nervous, probably put it in the wrong hole
Damn, god damn, don't say it
Whatever 'bout this twitch, he was a villain when naked
The type of chick that put the ring on your finger
Disfiguring the fleshbone, scrape her with a whisper
I keep dreaming, oh shit, the blunt's lingering
Support your local drug dealer, four fidda split a can
Walking 'round town with the girl of my dreams, in my brain
Thoughts keep lingering, like I won't ever fuck again
Shadows of emotion, while I'm singing in the ocean
Just leave me alone, alone...
He had a black face, innit
Her with the ass fat swoll out naked
Stationary shotgun, Snapchat her momma (Yo mom)
Telling 'em my girl's got the keys to my Honda
What a shame, and it's a borderline travesty
The chromosome lacking, with a spit from her cavity
Annoy the sanity, jewels from your majesty
Waking up sweaty, with the wet dream fantasy
I mean I hit it, confusion of the first degree
Swole to the lip bone, bleeding gums murphy
And I even sucked her toes on some other shit
But she got a tat of his ego on her left tit
You see a lot of girls play to pretend
When the spilled ink leaks to the bottom of the pen
But whatever, she tried to be clever
At least I still got the North Face sweater



Writer(s): Jimmie Rodgers, Clayton Mcmichen


Hank Snow - The Very Best Of
Album The Very Best Of
date de sortie
01-09-2010




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