old inn-door He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead A bunch of lace at his chin A coat of claret velvet And breeches of brown doe-skin They fitted
Magic Johnson's death in a box with Jordan's pops that ass'll never take another breath 'cause, I write the songs like Barry Manilow I like my Sugar Brown
ship out on the ocean Save your strength for things that you can change Forgive the ones you can't You gotta let 'em go Like a sweet sunset in Georgia
the Fall. But Winter's upon me And I've got no heat here And I miss your fire so sweet, Dear I miss your fire so sweet. And I hear you're in San
home They'll be there, just you wait and see A-jumpin' and a-stompin' at the jubilee Hey man, there's good rockin' tonight Sweet lorraine, sioux city sue, Sweet georgia brown
sharp with your rings and chain but you short a rope At the end of the road trip still, I'ma hold shit down like syndrome Rappers are like Fox Brown
ALABAMA JUBILEE WRITERS JACK YELLEN, GEORGE L. COBB Chorus: You ought to see deacon Jones When he rattles the bones, Old parson Brown foolin' 'roun
french cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They fitted with never a
Harlem's from where I came, don't worry about my name Up on one-two-five they call me sweet thang [Unverified] A daughter come up in Georgia, ripe
Lawrence Brown-George Gordy-Allen Story-Anna Gaye It's times like this, love When my heart is filled with heavenly bliss And you've given me a tender
sneekin, creepin in Georgia, freak on the weekend Repeat [Chorus] [Verse 2](T.I.) This time, it was me n KP, in NYC On some Quevo and Hennessy, and 2 sweets
the old inn-door. He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin; They
give in) Give in Don't give up (Don't give up) We can try but it will never never break my love Sweet, sweet love Sweet, sweet love See my love Chorus
[Part 1] Groupies hier Groupies dort Mehr Groupies als der Clooney George Groupies fahren Backstage mit der Hand in meine Gucci-Shorts Groupies, die
about my name,) (Up on one-two-five they call me sweet thang) Scratches + Woman singing in the background [Talib Kweli] (+ Background Vocals) A daughter come up in Georgia
{G Clinton, G Shider, L Brown} The world is a toll-free toilet Our mouths neurological assholes And psychologically speaking We're in a state of mental
I hear the doorbell ring Turn on the radio, Anita Baker starts to sing Open up the door and I kiss her on the cheek She's so nice, polite, petite, so sweet