A Lap Dance is So Much Better when the Stripper is Cryin lyrics

I was lonelier than Kunta Kinte at a Merle Haggard concert that night I
strolled on into Uncle Limpy's Hump Palace lookin' for love. It had been a
while. In fact, three hundred and sixty-five had come and went since that
midnight run haulin' hog to Shakey Town on I-10. I had picked up this
hitchhiker that was sweatin' gallons through a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs and

printable copy of the lyrics to A Lap Dance is So Much Better when the Stripper is Cryin

one of those Fruit Of The Loom tank-tops. Well, that night I lost myself to
ruby red lips, milky white skin and baby blue eyes. Name was Russell.

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Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'
Well I find it's quite a thrill
When she grinds me against her will
Yes a lap dance is so much better when the stripper is cryin'

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Well, faster than you can say, "shallow grave", this pretty little thing come
up to me and starts kneadin' my balls like hard-boiled eggs in a tube sock.
Said her name was Bambi and I said, "Well that's a coincidence darlin', ‘cause
I was just thinkin' about skinnin' you like a deer". Well she smiled, had
about as much teeth as a Jack-O-Lantern, and I went on to tell her how I would
wear her face like a mask as I do my little kooky dance. And then she
told me to shush. I guess she could sense my desperation. ‘Course, it's hard to
hide a hard-on when you're dressed like Minnie Pearl.

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So, Bambi's goin' on about how she can make all my fantasies come true. So I
says, "Even this one I have where Jesus Christ is jackhammering
Mickey Mouse in the doo-doo hole with a lawn dart as Garth Brooks gives birth
to something resembling a cheddar cheese log with almonds on
Santa Claus's tummy-tum?" Well, ten beers, twenty minutes and thirty dollars
later I'm parkin' the beef bus in tuna town if you know what I mean. Got
to nail her back at her trailer. Heh. That rhymes. I have to admit it was even
more of a turn-on when I found out she was doin' me to buy baby
formula.

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Day or so had passed when I popped the clutch, gave the tranny a spin and slid
on into The Stinky Pinky Gulp N' Guzzle Big Rig Snooze-A-Stop.
There I was browsin' through the latest issue of "Throb", when I saw Bambi
starin' at me from the back of a milk carton. Well, my heart just dropped.
So, I decided to do what any good Christian would. You can not imagine how
difficult it is to hold a half gallon of moo juice and polish the
one-eyed gopher when your doin' seventy-five in an eighteen-wheeler. I never
thought missing children could be so sexy. Did I say that out loud?

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