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Bill Withers - Текст песни Harlem/Cold Baloney
Summer night in Harlem
Man it's a really hot
Well it's to hot to sleep
And I'm to po' to eat
I don't care if I die or not
Winter night in Harlem
Radiator won't get hot
That mean old landlord
He don't care if I
Freeze to death or not
Ah But Saturday night in Harlem
Now everything's alright
Really swing
And shake your pretty thing
Yeah the party's out a sight
Sunday morning in Harlem
Everybody's all dressed up
Now hip folks gettin home from are high from the party
Good folks just got up
Crooked delegation
Wants a big donation
Send some old jive preacher
to the Holy land
Oh honey,
don't you give your money
To that lyin' cheatin' man
Saturday night in Harlem
Bill Withers - Harlem/Cold Baloney - http://ru.motolyrics.com/bill-withers/harlem-cold-baloney-lyrics.html
Everything's alright
Shake your thang
And shang a lang a lang a lang
The party's out a' sight
I wanna tell you about Cold Baloney
I'm home all by myself
Just five years old
But I sho' am cold
Mama's out cookin' steak for someone else
Sho' am sleepy
But I'm gon' wait 'til momma comes
If the rich folk don't eat up all that good meat
I believe she gonna bring me some
I wanna tell you about Harlem
cold Baloney mayonaise and bread
If it wasn't fpr cold baloney
by now don't y'all know
I would a' been dead
I wanna tell you about Harlem
Po' mama, she sho' is tired
She said what cha eatin' son?
I believe that baloney sandwich sho looks good
Would you please fix your mama one?
Little red light
Shake 'em on down
Little green light