| Where’d you get those pants?
|
| Grabbin' flesh and moaning like a Buddhist chant
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| The friction of a polyester rubbing butt
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| Your pedal pushers pumping, I can’t get enough
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| Hip hugging puts me in a trance
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| Oh, where’d you get those pants?
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| Lord have mercy!
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| Where’d you get those pants?
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| Like honey sticking to a jar attracting ants
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| It makes me celebrate when your chocolate shakes
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| So gimme double chili cheese and bacon cake
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| And throw me in a side of romance
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| Girl, where’d you get those pants?
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| Hey foxy lady!
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| This shiny silver sweaty shirt stuck to my skin
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| Reveals the hot and helpless hungry state I’m in
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| You give my brand new pants a brand new happy fit
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| And you really got me moving
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| So let me get you grooving
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| Where’d you get those pants
|
| Let’s hit the parking lot for a second glance
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| In the back seat of my Cadillac, let’s take a chance
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| Them bitchy britches look so dope
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| Hitting switches, hopping ditches, let’s lose control
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| Where’d you get those pants?
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| I can dig it
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| (I can dig it)
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| Yea alright!
|
| (I can dig it)
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| Woo, c’mon girl!
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| (I can dig it)
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| Oh damn… (Yea man!)
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| …camera flash (Yea man!)
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| And those Spandex (Rated X!)
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| Making me erect
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| Oh, those daisy dukes
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| The way they ridin' up your booty
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| Make an old man just get up and dance
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| And take all his Viagra
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| The fit on the hip makes my backbone slip
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| The slope of the curve hits the rawest nerve
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| Those silky thighs they hypnotize
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| Messing up my mind |