Mother was the baddest woman in my book.
I get scared of her now & I was raised on gospel.
She’d hit me with anything – skillets & stove wood.
One time I ran away & cried for a whole week.
I get scared of her now & I was raised on gospel
That the preacher screamed out on a Sunday morning
& one time I ran away & cried for a whole week,
Stayed in the backwoods, me & my little dog.
That preacher screamed out on a Sunday morning
Like mother kneeling down, hollering for my soul.
& I stayed in the backwoods, me & my little dog
But God don’t put no more on you than you can bear.
After mother knelt down & hollered for my soul
She’d hit me with anything – skillets & stove wood –
& God don’t put no more on you than you can bear
But mother was the baddest woman in my book.