| You got your hair down.
|
| I got this top back.
|
| Kissin' on my neck.
|
| Girl, you gotta stop that.
|
| Do you want that fast lane?
|
| Or do you want that back seat?
|
| Girl, you gotta pick one.
|
| You can’t expect me
|
| To keep my hands to myself.
|
| She ain’t into wine and dining.
|
| She’s shooting whiskey singing sweet child of mine, man.
|
| Riding 95 sitting' shot gun pretty,
|
| Turning this town into paradise city.
|
| Runnin' wide ass open.
|
| Just as fast as this thing goes, boy,
|
| Give me some more.
|
| She’s my little rock star, man she knows it.
|
| My baby’s Guns N' Roses.
|
| She’s got a wild side.
|
| Bet trouble’s in her blood.
|
| Thinks I’m an outlaw.
|
| That’s double trouble son.
|
| She likes to rock hard.
|
| She likes to kiss soft.
|
| Hot as a barrel on a 12 gauge sawed off.
|
| Ain’t hard to please, long as you got speed.
|
| She ain’t into wine and dining'.
|
| She’s shooting whiskey singing sweet child of mine, man.
|
| Ridin' 95 sittin' shot gun pretty.
|
| Turnin' this town into paradise city.
|
| Runnin' wide ass open.
|
| Just as fast as this thing goes, boy,
|
| Give me some more.
|
| She’s my little rock star, man she knows it.
|
| My baby’s Guns N' Roses.
|
| Yeah, She’s dancin' with the devil,
|
| In the cold November Rain.
|
| When she’s Knocking On Heaven’s Door, son,
|
| You can bet God’ll call her name.
|
| She ain’t into Wine and Dining.
|
| She’s shooting whiskey singing sweet child of mine, man.
|
| Ridin' 95 sittin' shot gun pretty.
|
| Turnin' this town into paradise city.
|
| Runnin' wide ass open.
|
| Just as fast as this thing goes, boy,
|
| Give me some more.
|
| She’s my little rock star, man she knows it.
|
| My baby’s Guns 'N Roses.
|
| My baby’s Guns 'N Roses.
|
| My baby’s Guns 'N Roses.
|
| My baby’s Guns 'N Roses. |