Search results for house with no curtains by alan jackson

We've found 167 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching house with no curtains by alan jackson:


Albums:

Playlist: The Very Best of Alan Jackson (Alan Jackson) · Pickin' on Alan Jackson (Pickin' On) · A Tribute to Alan Jackson (The Country Dance Kings) · Playlist: The Very Best of Alan Jackson (Alan Jackson) · The Essential Alan Jackson (Alan Jackson) · Genuine: The Alan Jackson Story (Alan Jackson) · The Essential Alan Jackson (Alan Jackson) · Songs of Alan Jackson (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Karaoke: Alan Jackson, Vol. 5 (George Strait) · Very Best of Alan Jackson (Alan Jackson) – and 90 other albums »


sleeps with a piece of his coat

Oh, I love Alan Jackson

'Cause of them songs he wrote

Well, I went backstage at his concert
I got on his bus somehow
mixes it with salt and cream
It taste real nice
Ooo-ooo

Augustus Jackson was a free black man
A chef at the White House for the Madisons
He came
a bear.

Take me home, I promise I will not make noise or mess the house with
Other boys, oh please don't make me stay, I've been here one whole day.
Sittin' in the kitchen, a house in Macon
Loretta's singing on the radio
Smell of coffee eggs and bacon
Car wheels on a gravel road

Pull
Yeah this one right here goes out to all the baby's mamas, mamas
Mamas, mamas, baby mamas, mamas
Yeah, go like this

I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (oh), I am
Yeah this one right here goes out to all the baby's mamas, mamas
Mamas, mamas, baby mamas, mamas
Yeah, go like this

I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (oh), I am
Yeah this one right here goes out to all the baby's mamas, mamas
Mamas, mamas, baby mamas, mamas
Yeah, go like this

I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (oh), I am
four hundred
Years ago, but does this do anything to reverse it's effect?

No one with the intellegence will deny that a great atrocity was committed
Suzanne divorced her husband
She got the keys and the car and the home
But her friends were really his friens
No one stops by to see her much any
love with a Creole girl,
By the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I said, "My pretty Creole girl,
My money here's no good,
But if it weren't for
land 
Welcome to Nashville, land of opportunity 
Welcome to Nashville, your cab driver knows Alan Jackson 
Welcome to Nashville, the dreams are
Suzanne divorced her husband
She got the keys to the car and the home
But her friends were really his friends
No one stops by to see her much
Ah, you seen my show, you followed my tour
I heard you scream with eighty thousand more
But tonight, I close up my tour in your room
Know I pull
Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant to make your daughter cry
I apologize a trillion times
I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant
T'was on one bright March morning I bid New Orleans adieu 
And I took the rode to Jackson town, me fortune to renew 
I cursed all foreign money, no
Sittin' in the kitchen, a house in Macon
Loretta's singing on the radio
Smell of coffee eggs and bacon
Car wheels on a gravel road

Pull
fade to black

Where I was warm oh now I feel cold
And when did the light through my window change
I pass by your house
It's so empty to see all
a body with Cypress Hill
Yeah!

[Chorus: B-Real]
We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die
You try to deal with us, but you got no
Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant to make your daughter cry
I apologize a trillion times
I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant
Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant to make your daughter cry
I apologize a trillion times
I'm sorry Ms. Jackson (oh), I am for real
Never meant
a body with Cypress Hill
Yeah!

[Chorus]
We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die
You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get
of the house with hangover shame
Don't punish me for not calling you
Come by the house, I'll be there at eight,
Waiting on the stoop for you

I'm lying with
knew his act was through
With no applause and no encores
Though the house was full
So bring the curtain down
Lay him in the ground
For he's gone
saying greatness is my tendency
No such thing as sympathy, more money, my remedy
Pockets on, heavy D, bitch I'm hot, third degree
Whip I drive? Owned by
love with a Creole girl,
By the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I said, "My pretty Creole girl,
My money here's no good,
But if it weren't for