| I was born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| Born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| Ever since I was old enough to be one
|
| I’ve been the victim of every woman I meet
|
| Every time I meet a pretty girl
|
| I lose my self control
|
| Bad enough to lose your self control
|
| But every time you lose your bankroll
|
| Born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| Ever since I’ve been old enough to be one
|
| I tell you the girls have been fussing over me
|
| Country girls are slick
|
| City girls are slicker
|
| And the way they keep on slicking me
|
| They keep getting me sicker and sicker and sicker and sicker
|
| I was born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| And ever since I was old enough to be one
|
| I’ve been the victim of every woman I meet
|
| I was born in the country
|
| Said I was raised in a ghetto street
|
| I was born in the country
|
| Said I was raised in a ghetto street
|
| And ever since I’ve been old enough to be one
|
| I tell you the women have been trying to make a fool out of me
|
| Every time I meet a pretty girl
|
| I lose my self control
|
| Bad enough to lose your self control
|
| But every time you lose your bankroll
|
| Born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| And ever since I’ve been old enough to be one
|
| I tell you I’ve been the victim of every woman I meet
|
| Country girls are slick
|
| City girls are slicker
|
| The way they keep on slicking me
|
| They keep getting me sicker and sicker and sicker
|
| Born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| Ever since I’ve been old enough to be one
|
| I’ve been the victim of every woman I meet
|
| Got a room in a third floor walk up
|
| Landlady flung herself at me
|
| Couldn’t pay my rent for three months
|
| And she said «Go man go back to be free!»
|
| Born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| Ever since I’ve been old enough to be one
|
| I’ve been the victim of every woman I meet
|
| Cold outside
|
| The ground was covered with snow
|
| But she threw me and my trunk out the window
|
| And she hollared «Look out! |
| Victim falling below!»
|
| Yes, born in the country
|
| Raised in a ghetto street
|
| And ever since I’ve been old enough to be one
|
| Women have been trying to make a fool out of me |