Search results for boots and pants by pope

We've found 99 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching boots and pants by pope:



Ooh, snakeskin cowboys
Who the hell you think you are
You?re dancin? around with your high-heeled boots
Don?t think that should get you far
Just
at the U.S. Air Force base
And somewhere in the distance, out beyond the setting sun
They will sign a proclamation: Order 1081

Now, we live down by
a manifestation
Nature made it answer the call
It simply can't resist
Boots and pants like this
Abracadabra for all

Glad that's over, but this is worse
Roll
a manifestation
Nature made it answer the call
It simply can't resist
Boots and pants like this
Abracadabra for all

Glad that's over, but this is worse
Roll
In the County Tyrone, near the town of Dungannon, 
Where many the ructions meself had a hand in.
Bob Williamson lived, a weaver by trade, 
And all
In the County Tyrone, near the town of Dungannon,
Where many the ructions meself had a hand in.
Bob Williamson lived, a weaver by trade,
And all
In the county Tyrone, in the town of Dungannon
Where many a ruckus meself had a hand in
Bob Williamson lived there, a weaver by trade
And all
it by now of course
Who wears the britches is the boss
That's a gal, that's a gal in britches

Don't mess with a gal in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o
No
In the county Tyrone, in the town of Dungannon
Where many a ruckus meself had a hand in
Bob Williamson lived there, a weaver by trade
And all
Crazy as a loon
He throw us all in jail
For carryin' harpoons

Ah me I busted out
Don't even ask me how
I went to get some help
I walked by
mornin' rise-n-shine and eat-n-clean 
Had my mind set to hit them streets 
Drizzle from the night left cold puddles out 
Had my black stomp-boots on my
When I skits off a land funk that boogies up your pants and
Kicks flavor dug by your gramps in Johansen
Jazz cats that's hip, plus them brothers who
pants.
They threw me in the alley, when up comes this girl from france
Who invited me to her house. I went, but she had a friend
Who knocked me out an'
a manifestation
Nature made it answer the call
It simply can't resist
Boots and pants like this
Abracadabra for all

Glad that's over, but this is worse
Roll
outside.
She felt me up and kissed my face,

Put her dirty hands down in my pants.
She took all of my money,
Left me naked by the silvery moon.

I'm
outside.
She felt me up and kissed my face,

Put her dirty hands down in my pants.
She took all of my money,
Left me naked by the silvery moon.
I'm
mornin' rise-n-shine and eat-n-clean
Had my mind set to hit them streets
Drizzle from the night left cold puddles out
Had my black stomp-boots on my feet
with no pants on

Must've blown a fuse nothing's going on
Lamer than the Pope climb the walls like King Kong
Buggin' out like Tori Spelling's eyes
She looked around the arena and standin' by the fence
Was a tallean cowboy with a big black hat and tight fittin Levi pants

It was Jim a fine young
morning with a big ass headache

Y’all I ain’t kidding this son of a bitch hurts
Where the hell are my pants must be with my shirt
I still got my boots
Why you wanna fuck wit my Boot Camp?
Boot Camp, survivin' the preview and
Fuck wit my Bucktown group
And in the night, the night, who roll the tight
Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight,
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went
Knees on legs, toes on feet
Hair on chest, itchy vest
Woolly pants, nylon socks
Leather boots smash down the grass
Oh, grandma's lawn has just
Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went stark-raving
through the night
And I swear they were a beatin' those
Congo drums outside

Ooh jambalaya

We laughed until the mornin'
By then my pants had dried