| Wanna tell you a story about a woman I know
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| She got real fancy jewelry, faux fur on her clothes
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| She drives a red PT Cruiser with flames on the side
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| She goes out for the evening but her curfew is nine
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| When you’re looking for love
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| She’s the first place to go
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| When I need someone to listen
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| She’s waiting by her flip phone
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| She got curlers in her hair
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| And she always takes my calls
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| An unconditional love
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| She’s my Mama’s Ma
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| Wanna tell you a story from 1921
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| Pre-Great Depression, post-World War I
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| She crossed the Atlantic on a half-rotten log
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| And she made it to Ellis throught the thick New York fog
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| When you’re looking for love
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| She’s the first place to go
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| When I need someone to listen
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| Or I need a place to go
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| She got curlers in her hair
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| And she always took my calls
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| An unconditional love
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| She’s my Mama’s Mama’s Ma
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| Gonna tell you a story from days long ago
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| The girl could churn butter and knew how to use a hoe
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| She bore fifteen children in case some of them died
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| Lost her to dysentery at the old age of thirty-five
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| When you’re looking for love
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| She was the first place to go
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| When I need someone to listen
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| Or a place to call my home
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| She got curlers in her hair
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| And she always took my calls
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| An unconditional love
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| She’s my Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s
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| Ma
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| Mama’s Mama’s Mama’s Ma |