Lyrics:
Dear, Dolly Parton, I don't know what to do
I'm stuck here cryin' and I feel like a fool
'Cause life's fightin' me and I'm not fightin' back
So come
When I grow up
I wanna be like Dolly Parton
Hand out books
To the ones they left forgotten
Love for life
No this ain't just talkin'
Yeah I still
I got this black and white picture on my wall
of Dolly Parton standing by a Sedan DeVille
And looks to be in the late sixties
cause it’s all
Cross my heart and ugly cry
Religiously watch Nine to Five
On my knees I scream her name
Pray for when she saves the day
Dolly Parton, give us money
We're
pictures and the cars and the wallets
He wants them big things like them ?Tits? and ?Dolly Partons?
Got mad bodies, ?Roy is hotter than Cochran?
Besides
pockets
I want the kid's pictures and the cars and the wallets
He wants them big things like them ?Tits? and ?Dolly Partons?
Got mad bodies, ?Roy is
(Who runs this?) It's Mr. Worldwide
(Who runs this?) With the one and only
(Who runs this?) Dolly Parton
(Well, hey)
And this is dedicated
on to Dameron Street
Them other cars pulled over like the red sea had parted
It was then I had a vision of Dolly Parton
(Right there, he had a vision of Dolly
beauty Dolly Parton gluteus maximus
Ass big enough to fit a cup on her booty (booty),
Straight Centerfold Suzette
I`m in the mix (I`m in the mix)
These niggas little girls dressing up like dolly's
I beg your Parton I should just call you Dolly
If you want to leap go head be a froggy
Must've lost
weed in my drawer
Got them bomb seeds in my garden
Valley Girl, Dolly Parton
If that shit don’t be poppin’
Got them dope fiends in Compton
Got my niggas
juice and gin (Aye)
Cover her in specimen (Wink)
That boost my adrenaline (Win)
Her hair look like pussy (Pink)
Her tits Dolly Parton (Big)
Them things
Written by Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner
© 1971 Velvet Apple Music
Oh the pain of loving you
Oh the misery I go through
Never knowing what
and twelve was the
Year that we lost her
Twenty years previous she was in
The Bodyguard with Kevin Costner
She had a big hit with
A Dolly Parton composition
like we sellin' books
Dolly Parton style, melons mushed
Now my bitch a dancer, I'm 'bout as sick as cancer
If you could swallow my style, you'd
Written by Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner
© 1971 Velvet Apple Music
Oh the pain of loving you
Oh the misery I go through
Never knowing what
sucking that dirty black dong
Stop and grab the shlong, and play ping-pong
That shit stretch a long way to Hong Kong
I met Dolly Parton's man in Tennessee
Kristofferson was a bartender, Tanya Tucker was one year old
And eh, Dolly Parton was a thirty-two B
Alright a long time ago.
Well, you folks have been nice
lie, Dolly Parton high, they all can buy
Got it for sale
And i don't run the crack spot
Opperation is a jag drop, rag mop, access with a laptop
One
you seen and what you saw?
Now my name starts your sentence, you'z a hater by law
I'm by far tighter than training bras on Dolly Parton
You think
thing that Jeff Foxworthy wrote
The music's great, but that's where it ends
They'd have you think we're all best friends
But it's all as fake as Dolly
and call it a rack
And he was sure it was the next big thing
With Dolly Parton in his ad campaign
Selling Titty's, Titty's, Titty's Beer
Just the thing
I'm still out here à la cartin'
Playin' Dolly Parton in the crib, this is not an apartment
Could've been the hardest niche artist but I like chartin'
today's doe money
No time for your freestyles so roll money
No more whack albums with two joints
No more ballplayin' rappers who shoot ya two points
(No
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