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You're talking about your woman, |
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I wish to God, man, that you could see mine |
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You're talking about your woman, |
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I wish to God that you could see mine |
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Every time the little girl start to loving, |
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She bring eyesight to the blind |
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Lord, her daddy must been a millionaire, |
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'Cause I can tell by the way she walk |
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Her daddy must been a millionaire, |
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Because I can tell by the way she walk |
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Every time she start to loving, |
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The deaf and dumb begin to talk |
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I remember one Friday morning, |
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We was lying down across the bed |
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Man in the next room a-dying, stopped dying |
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And lift up his head, and said, |
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"Lord, ain't she pretty, |
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And the whole state know she fine!" |
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Every time she start to loving, |
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She bring eyesight to the blind |
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(Spoken: All right and all right, now. |
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Lay it on me, lay it on me, lay it on me |
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Oh lordy, what a woman, what a woman!) |
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Yes, I declare she's pretty |
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And the whole state knows she's fine |
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Man, I declare she's pretty, |
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God knows I declare she's fine |
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Every time she starts to loving, |
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Whoo, she brings eyesight to the blind |
