| Lyrics: | Written by John Mellencamp
She's one of those Sunday afternoon walkers
Who searches
down the rich dick
So here comes, speak this way baby
Ain't no tongue some kinda a
trick
So shake that kick, ooh shake that kick
Shavin' your underarms
I got my eyes on
your ...
If I could just get your hands on my balls
*Hello High C Cherrie
Would
you bring it on over here
I got a big jet black Cadillac
Parked out back in the
rear
I'd give you twenty five heathens
To serve you a six pack of rollin' thunder
beer
Say ain't that enough, Cherrie
To stick it in you
Eww my my the girl with
... rolls
That's the way talk (High C)
You must admit you're heaven sent
For big boys
...
Hey I'm on the corner taken ...
Hey baby, I can hold my own
(Cherrie) Meet me on
C Street, baby
Hey little girl, you want an ice cream cone
Hello High C
Cherrie
Shake that trash over here
I got a big jet black Cadillac
Its parked out back
in the rear
I'd give you twenty five heathens
To serve you a six pack of rollin' thunder
beer
Say ain't that enough, Cherrie
To stick it in you
Hey baby, are you with
escort
Are you really on your way home
(Cherrie) Would you make it with a poor
schoolboy
Would you let this dog throw you his bone
I don't mean to be pushy
But I
know I'd shove you down on the ground (hell ya)
How can a sane man
Adjust to havin' you
around
(*Repeat)
Hello High C Cherrie
Would you bring it on over
here
I got a big jet black Cadillac
Crashed out back in the rear
I'll give you twenty
five heathens
To serve you a six pack of rollin' thunder beer
Say ain't that enough,
Cherrie
Hey is that enough, Cherrie
Oh hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, Cherrie . |
