oo, oo, oo, oo,
Where did you come from, I wanna thank your moms
for bringin' u into this life, and makin u my type
dont (dont) hold (hold) this (this) against me
but I cant help but stare, why u over there
want u right here, c'mon yeah
C'mon baby baby c'mon
C'mon baby baby c'mon (oh baby baby baby baby)
cant u look at me and tell that u've got something that I want
so c'mon baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby c'mon
u got the best lookin jeans, I eva seen
so baby wont u shake it for me
Oo, dont play hard to get, u aint got a thing to loose
I know u feel me to, staring from across the room
I (I) just (just) wanna get closa (closa) to ya (to ya)
we can talk later, right now I wanna see u move c'mon (whoa, oo yeah yeah)
oo gurl, u got me feelin like I wanna get wit u gurl
dont try to front and act like
u dont feel it to(to) to(to) to(to) to(to)to gurl
now lets make moves gurl (right now I wanna see u move c'mon)
C'mon baby baby c'mon
C'mon baby baby c'mon(oh baby baby baby baby)
cant u look at me and tell that u've got something that I want
so c'mon baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby c'mon
u got the best lookin jeans, I eva seen
so baby wont u shake it for me
C'mon baby baby c'mon
C'mon baby baby c'mon(oh baby baby baby baby)
cant u look at me and tell that u've got something that I want
so c'mon baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby c'mon
u got the best lookin jeans, I eva seen
so baby wont u shake it for me
C'mon baby baby c'mon
c'mon baby baby c'mon
cant u look at me (cant u look at me)
and tell that u got something that i want
so c'mon baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby baby c'mon
u got the best (u got the best, u got the best) lookin jeans I eve seen
so baby wont u shake it for me
C'mon baby baby c'mon
c'mon baby baby c'mon
cant u look at me and tell that u gCut glass cathedrals
slash holes in the air
so it always is raining
when we kneel down in prayer.
And Christ leans and laughs. . .
Christ! He's shaking his head
cos the wine's Portugese
and the bread's only bread . . .
No trance, no substance, no conscience for sure
as the Pope licks a jackboot and lays down the law.
And his flock form a cross--
all fall down with disease.
And the only survivors
are him and his priests.
In them thar seven hills
there's a big crock of gold,
but it's all stashed in sacks
and belongs to a Pole.
And name any language,
he's got something to sell,
but if you add it up,
it's a ticket to hell.