Walking that fine line
between the sea and the shore
I hear the song
and I follow along
If you ask me
I don't know what for
a carrot on a stick
A dog with a bone

Twisting a top
Twisting a lot

You turn around
To see what you've got

You call yourself a poet
You write about that
Don't you holler at me
Don't you call me fat

I've got everything fine mama needs
We're  stuck together like glue
We just do what it is we please
Do what it is we do

I call 'em like it is and that's a fact
No painting of the red doors black
No mojo workin' only horns and drums
When it comes to diplomacy I'm all thumbs