| Daddy born poor, Mama was too
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| Walkin' through the snow, plastic bags on their shoes
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| Papa sellin' houses, sleepin' in a car
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| Poor baby’s in the backseat underneath the stars
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| Well, hey, hey
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| Just work a little harder
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| Hey, hey
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| Punchin' that clock
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| With work and prayer and a little bit of luck
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| Make so much money, need a ten tonne truck
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| Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha
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| Ha-ha-ha-ha
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| Ha-ha-ha
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| Well, the bank took the house when Daddy lost his job
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| Put a hitch on the back of Mama’s little silver Dodge
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| Drove with nothin' but our clothes and guitar
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| Right down to Nashville, gonna be big stars
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| Hey, hey
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| Just work a little harder
|
| Hey, hey
|
| Punchin' that clock
|
| With work and prayer and a little bit of luck
|
| Make so much money, need a ten tonne truck
|
| Ah, ha-ha-ha-ha
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| Ha-ha-ha-ha
|
| Ha-ha-ha
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| Well, you scratch and you claw and you try to make a livin'
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| Pay dues, get moved right back to the beginning
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| When the pie gets bigger everybody wants a slice
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| What I’ve been cookin' since back in '89
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| Well, hey, hey
|
| Just work a little harder
|
| Hey, hey
|
| Punchin' that clock
|
| With work and prayer and a little bit of luck
|
| Make so much money, need a ten tonne truck
|
| Well, ha-ha-ha-ha
|
| Ha-ha-ha-ha
|
| Ha-ha-ha
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| Ha-ha-ha-ha
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| Ha-ha-ha-ha
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| Ha-ha-ha |