Big Apple — текст песни (molly hatchet)

New York City, you`re so big and tough,
Well here we come, baby, struttin` our stuff.
Well we look kinda freaky we`re pretty damn bad.
Cause Southern cookin` is all we`ve ever had.
Oh, cook `em up some greens, baby.

I`ve seen the mountains up in Tennessee.
Sweet little hill women satisfied me.
We all know it`s tough and it`s an uphill battle.
But we`re running `em hard baby, sitting in the saddle.
Oh, come on baby.

New York City you`re so big and tough.
My pistols are loaded, I feel rough.
Well. we`ve heard of your punks and high heeled steppers.
We`re bad southern boys and don`t you forget us.