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Cledus T. Judd lyrics - Cledus T. Judd (No Relation)

Swingin'

Original and similar lyrics
John Anderson (J. Anderson/L. Delmore) Polygram Imternational Publishing, Inc.(ASCAP) Let's dance!!! UH... (Yes ma'am... Is Charlotte Johnson at home by chance? Uh yea ma'am we're supposed to have a date tonight. Where we going? I'll tell you where we're going... Swinging) There's a little girl, living in my neighborhood Her name is Charlotte Johnson mmm mmm lookin good I had to go and see her, so I called her on the phone Walked over to her house, and this was goin' on Her brother was on the sofa, eatin' chocolate pie Her momma was in the kitchen cuttin' chicken up to fry Her daddy was in the back yard rollin up a garden hose And I was on the porch with Charlotte feelin' love down to my toes Chorus: And we were swingin' (swinging) Yeah we were swingin' (swinging) Little Charlotte she's as pretty as the angels when they sing I can't believe it started on the front porch in a swing Just swingin' (swingin) Just swingin' (swingin) Now Charlotte she's a darlin she's the apple of my eye When I'm on the swing with her it makes me oh so high Now Charlotte is my lover and she has been since the spring I can't believe it started on her front porch in the swing Chorus Repeat Chorus Here we go... Me and Charlotte sittin on the porch swing Eating moon pies sipping on the Real Thing Daddy comes out with a 12 gauge shotgun Had a flashback from his days in Viet Nam Honey please you're my daughter I guess she forgot all the things I taught her Shot gun blast my ears ringing on the front porch... UH Chorus That's what we were doing Swinging There's your money in the bank...two step to that There's a little girl, living in my neighborhood Her name is Charlotte Johnson mmm mmm lookin good Now Charlotte is my lover and she has been since the spring I can't believe it started on her front porch in a swing Here we go... Me and Charlotte sittin on the porch swing Eating moon pies sipping on the Real Thing Daddy comes out with a 12 gauge shotgun Had a flashback from his days in Viet Nam Honey please you're my daughter I guess she forgot all the things I taught her Shot gun blast my ears ringing on the front porch... UH CHORUS That's what we were doing Swinging There's your money in the bank...two step to that Don't touch that knob there might be some JAM ON IT... Too much jam on it Too much jam on it Too much jam on it

Had It Not Been You

ALAN JACKSON "Like Red On A Rose"
The girl's wouldn't look anything like they do Can't imagine my life without dresses and shoes Or never taking a sunset from a front porch swing Or make any sense of the pleasure love brings I'd been alone for sure Had it not been you I wouldn't reach for your arms When my dreams don't come true Never sit holding hands On a crowded church pew I wouldn't smile when my fingers run through your hair Or laugh when we race to the top of the stairs I'd get old for sure Had it not been you You know there are times That I can't wait to pick up the phone When you're callin' And the three little voices That always chime in right along When we're talkin' Oh I never would see through eyes of truth And my heart would have overlooked a view that some just talk of and never find In a lifetime It's hard to describe in just words how I feel when I hold stand beside you But I make it known It's just time that I kill When I'm alone and without you I will love all through the night If you love me As long as I wake up each morning I'll know I'm the only one around For a lifetime I'd never have taken in a sunset from the front porch swing Or make any sense of the pleasure love brings I'd been alone for sure Had it not been you

Papas Front Porch

Paul Gross
I woke to find the note that I thought would never be found on my cupboard door It said that you needed time on your own somewhere to heal the scars of our home I knew right then where you had to go Chorus: Your papa's front porch would be there to greet you as you came runnin down that old dirt road it's memories would comfort, hold you and keep you safe and out of the storm and that's where you'd go your papa's front porch As I screamed down that interstate howlin your name in the wind my heart reached out and slammed on the brakes in a spin rage cannot win I knew I'd never hurt you again Time will heal this world that we made But how high is the price we paid All I ask is a breath of forgiveness As I walk away

Swing It Over Here

ERICK SERMON "No Pressure"
Kick it over here baby pop! Chorus: Murray, Sermon, others [KM] Swing it over here! [all] Yo swing it over here! [KM] Swing it over here! [all] C'mon swing it over here! [KM] Y'all swing it over here! [all] Yo swing it over here! [KM] Come swing it over here! [Red] Yo, swing it over there! Verse One: Keith Murray My rap style is swift like boom bips so come get a whip, and a bump, it's rough Crews couldn't hold it in handcuffs The ordeal is that I'm raw ill on the mic Switchin my styles up like a transvestite (word) I think of competition as ?? and Keith Murray is the vocabulary champ ?Come in against deep notable to breach lines? I'll make you make the same mistake twice three or four times and nobody got a style like this You could say, I got my thinking cap on backwards I'll demolish the retarded smartest rap artists regardless, tryin to scream the hardest I fuck your head up like amphetamines with L.O.D. Then bend you out of shape like a master Yogi I put my head through your chest, just to see who's next in line, just to get wrecked I makes contact, bust the interlude I take my skills to another level like qualudes And you couldn't hear me out; cause the type of shit I converse about'll drag your brain in the slaughterhouse Chorus: change to [all] throughout Verse Two: Erick Sermon Cling cling, somebody tell me something Why I got more props than Don King without bouncing boxing rings? *ding ding* I be the flyest guy you ever sawr on the microphone Rip the shit to pieces, so leave me alone Check me out, the way I freak the mode The active half flippin shit so split 'fore I explode - BOOM! So umm, pay attention, before I put you and your crew on suspension for being closed minded to my invention Yo, I rock on reel when I record oh my lord The world full of jackers so I keep my shit stored When I rock the microphone I rock it right and keep it hardcore and more blacker than Wesley Snipes To my crew there's no match You want more funk then here's another batch, yo I Chorus: [all] throughout The Redman that's what they call me -- EPMD's 'Headbanger' (repeat 3X) [ED] Oh no, here comes the Funkadelic Redman Verse Three: Redman Aoowwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my goodness! Could this be the funk that I was stretching out my lungs Funkadelic sums up *nasal inhale* I clear the mucus Stick tissue up my nose to stop the snot from makin spots To be or not I still give niggaz polka dots for plots Now Richard Dawson had a survey sayin that I was awesome Throw on your Walkmans while I pour the funk sauce in your coffins WAKE UP! While the blunt's laced up just to pick the pace up My style's freaky, nasty like ?Seka? pussy papers when I raped her, you don't know check the four-uno-uno you know That funk mixture that gets your body, holy like scriptures Now right about now I'm settin off a bomb to blow the Empire to ashes -- cause my shit's more raw than niggaz stashes Massive funk, swingin bangin bent up while I fucked ya I'm rough enough ta, fuck up another white man's trucker Redman's evil like the board of ouiji, niggaz could smoke a whole pound of weed and couldn't see me off the TV!

Mexican Home

JOHN PRINE "Sweet Revenge"
It got so hot, last night, I swear You couldn't hardly breathe Heat lightning burnt the sky like alcohol I sat on the porch without my shoes And I watched the cars roll by As the headlights raced To the corner of the kitchen wall. Chorus: Mama dear Your boy is here Far across the sea Waiting for That sacred core That burns inside of me And I feel a storm All wet and warm Not ten miles away Approaching My Mexican home. My God! I cried, it's so hot inside You could die in the living room Take the fan from the window Prop the door back with a broom The cuckoo clock has died of shock And the windows feel no pane The air's as still As the throttle on a funeral train. Chorus: My father died on the porch outside On an August afternoon I sipped bourbon and cried With a friend by the light of the moon So its hurry! hurry! Step right up It's a matter of life or death The sun is going down And the moon is just holding its breath. Chorus:

Dixie Boy

ALABAMA "The Closer You Get..."
Words and Music by Jim McBride Iwas raised in the shadow of an old cotton mill, back when believin' was in style. Smalltown heaven and a big-eyed boy made sweet music for a while. My daddy worked hard down at the facotry. Nights he went to G.I. school. He didn't know nothin' 'bout the silver spoon, but he lived by the golden rule. Summer nights he was gone; me and mama stayed home, out on the front porch swing, wishin' on the stars in the southern sky, and sometimes we used to sing. We were leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms of love, livin' all the simple joys this Dixie boy is made of. Got my real educationfrom the T.V. station and good ole boys down at the park. The say Hey, Willie and those rock-a-billies played their way into my heart. I remember the old folks sittin' 'round talkin' on laidback Sunday afternoons. They said them young folks sure got a hard road. Oh, they're growin' up too soon. Now I know they were right, and as I sit here tonight out on the front porch swing, the stars are shinin' in my young boy's eyes, just like they did for me; We are leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms of love, livin' all the simple joys this Dixie boy is made of.

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