Daddy's Money    (1996)

Can't concentrate on the preacher preachin',
My attention span done turned off.
I'm homed in on that angel singin',
Up there in the choir loft.

She's got her Daddy's money, her Mama's good looks,
More laughs than a stack of comic books.
A wild imagination, a college education;
Add it all up, it's a deadly combination.
She's a good Bass fisher, a dynamite kisser,
Country as a turnip green.
She's got her Daddy's money, her Mama's good looks,
And look who's lookin' at me.

Her second cousin was my third grade teacher.
I used to cut her Grandma's grass.
Back then she was nothin' but knees and elbows.
Golly, did she grow up fast!

She's got her Daddy's money, her Mama's good looks,
More laughs than a stack of comic books.
A wild imagination, a college education;
Add it all up, it's a deadly combination.
She's a good Bass fisher, a dynamite kisser,
Country as a turnip green.
She's got her Daddy's money, her Mama's good looks,
And look who's lookin' at me.

Lord if you've got any miracles handy,
Maybe you can grab me one.
Just let me walk down the aisle and say I do,
To that angel with the choir robe on.

She's got her Daddy's money, her Mama's good looks,
More laughs than a stack of comic books.
A wild imagination, a college education;
Add it all up, it's a deadly combination.
She's a good Bass fisher, a dynamite kisser,
Country as a turnip green.
She's got her Daddy's money, her Mama's good looks,
And look who's lookin' at me.

She's got her Daddy's money, her Mama's good looks,
And she's lookin' at me.

Lyrics by Bob DiPiero, Mark Sanders and Steve Seskin.


Lyrics are provided for informational and educational purposes only. Lyrics are
subject to all U.S. copyright laws and remain property of their respective owners.