| Little Amsterdam
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| In a southern town
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| Hominy get it on your plate girl
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| Momma keep your head down
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| Momma wasn’t my bullet
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| Don’t take me back to the Range
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| I’m just comin’out of the cell in my brain
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| Dojn’t take me back to the Range
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| Girl you got to know these days
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| Which side your on Momma got shit
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| She loved a brown man
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| Then she built a bridge in the sheriff’s bed
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| She’d do anything to save her man
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| You see her olives they are cold pressed
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| And her best friend is a sun dress
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| But Momma
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| It wasn’t my bullet
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| Don’t take me back to the Range
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| I’m just comin’out of the cell in my brain
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| Dojn’t take me back to the Range
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| Girl you got to know these days
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| All alone
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| Got a girl in the city
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| Hey, got a room and a place for two
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| Got a goat and a phone, I said boy
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| You are my Fifth Avenue
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| Round and a round and a round I go Round and a round this time for keeps
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| Father only you can save my soul
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| And playing that organ must count for something
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| Girl you got to know these days
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| Little Amsterdam
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| Shut down today
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| They buried her with a butter bean bouquet
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| And the sheriff now can’t ride away
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| Like he said into the sunset
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| And I won’t say
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| He shouldna paid
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| But Momma
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| It wasn’t my bullet |