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Clay Walker Fall Fore She Was Mama ‘Bout ten years old, hide and seek I found me in the closet Ready or not I stumbled on And opened up that box of Yearbooks, letters, black and whites A hundred, maybe more Next thing I know my brothers and me Got ‘em scattered on the floor (Yeah) There was one of her, flippin’ the bird Sittin’ on a Harley And a few with some hairy hippie dude Turns out his name was Charlie Her hair, her clothes, her drinkin’ smokin’ Had us boys confused I’ll never forget the day us nosey kids got introduced To Mama, ‘fore she was Mama In a string bikini, in Tijuana Won’t admit she smoked marijuana But I saw Mama, ‘fore she was Mama We put that box right where it was And never said a word But growin’ up got hard just tryin’ Not to picture her In anything but aprons, dresses Mini-vans and church Oh and Daddy would have whooped our butts For diggin’ up that dirt On Mama, ‘fore she was Mama In a string bikini, in Tijuana She won’t admit she smoked marijuana But I saw Mama, ‘fore she was Mama We laugh and hang it over her head Right above her halo Her face turns red when we bring up That tie-dyed Winnebago She runs and hides and still denies That hip high rose tattoo She burned that box of forget-me-nots When she found out we knew About Mama, ‘fore she was Mama In a string bikini, in Tijuana Won’t admit she smoked marijuana But that was Mama, ‘fore she was Mama And there’s that one down in the Bahamas But that was Mama, ‘fore she was Mama |
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