The Story: Don't eat the fruit in the garden, Eden,, It wasn't in God's natural plan., You were only a rib,, And look at what you did,, To Adam, the father of Man.
The Story: You smell like goat, I'll see you in hell
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Real Lyric: From the moment I saw your face I knew I could never take living for granted
The Misheard: From the moment I saw your faceI knew I could never take liver for granted
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Real Lyric: Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, Sister Golden Hair surprise And I just can't live without you; can't you see it in my eyes? I've been one poor correspondent, and I've been too, too hard to find But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air? Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care? Well I tried to fake it, I don't mind sayin', I just can't make it
The Misheard: Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, Sister Golden Hair supplyAnd I just can't live without you; can't you see it in my eyes?I've been known for corresponing, and I've been too, too hard to fightBut it doesn't mean you ain't been on my
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Real Lyric: "Tell me how should I feel, when I know what I know. And my female intuition's telling me you a dog. People told me 'bout the flames, I couldn't see through the smoke."
The Misheard: "Tell me how should I feel, when I know what I know. And my female intuition's telling me you don't smoke. People told me 'bout the flames, I couldn't see through the smoke!"
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Real Lyric: Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks...
The Misheard: Buy me some peanuts and Apple Jacks...
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Real Lyric: Come on Barbie, let's go party
The Misheard: Come Lombardi, let's go party
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Real Lyric: We're going down, down, in an earlier round...
The Misheard: We're going down, down, in a lily-around...
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Real Lyric: Billie Jean is not my lover, She's just a girl that claims that I am the one But the kid is not my son
The Misheard: Billie Jean is not my loverShes just the girl that i thought i never wonBillie Jean is not my son
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Real Lyric: Here comes the hotstepper, murderer I’m the lyrical gangster, murderer Pick up the crew in-a de area, murderer Still love you like that, murderer
The Misheard: Here comes the hotstepper, burn it upI’m the lyrical gangster, burn it upPick up the crew in-a de area, burn it upStill love you like that, batter up
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Real Lyric: The weaver in the web that he made.
The Misheard: The Weeble and the weapon he made.
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Real Lyric: And no message could have been any clearer
The Misheard: and no message could prevent any killer
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