Lotta Man (In That Little Boy)

His life is that blue bike, ball glove an' fishin' pole,
Tree-house, BB gun and band aid covered knees.
He does good deliverin' papers,
An' cuttin' grass for the neighbours,
Except for Widow Wilson: he cuts hers for free.
His little hands do a lot for a kid his age,
He puts one-tenth of his hard earned money,
In the offering plate each Sunday by his own choice.
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

Weekdays, he tries to sleep late:
Weekends, he's up at daybreak.
Him an' Roy wadin' in Cotton Creek.
That dog was like his brother:
You'd seen one, you'd see the other.
Cut one an' both of them would bleed.
Tires screamed, but that ol' truck couldn't stop.
There's the tree that he buried him under;
He made a cross from scraps of lumber,
An' on it carved: "God Bless ol' Roy."
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

There's a house, down where he goes fishin':
He told his Mom: "Those kids got nothin',
"And I don't need all these toys."
There's a lotta man.
(There's a lotta man. There's a lotta man.)
In that little boy

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А ты мила, а ты мила штос думала Кєд сой гвечер, кєд сой гвечер зо мнов спала Тота єдна думка моя Же ты не мій, я не твоя душко моя Чого єс ся, чого

[Intro] My nigga you can do it too (turn me up, turn me up) You can do it too My nigga you can do it too You can do it too You can do it

All aboard America here comes the freedon train All aboard America here comes the freedon train. The freedom train is rolling down two hundred years of track Two hundred years of glory never