Rats in my Kitchen

I got Rats in my kitchen,
I got a mind to be *******'
I'm free and easy twisting
a perfectly nasty cadence
with my six strings,
singing like I'm a star draw
at 'The bucket of blood,'
got a bone handled knife
it keeps my life
ongoing
makes other men’s wife's feel safe,
eliminates slow mindedness
some times I scrapes it up side
my trusty singing strings,
drives women crazy
to shuffle their *****
up and down the blood ingrained boards.

my fans think I'm your Jesus incarnate,
I think I'm closer Satan’s hounds o' Hell,
they sing so loud
they hardly needs me at all,
but I'm here for my stack of Dollars,
my fun with the women who wants me most,
and my fun reducing that stack.

cause I is so popular with the gals
I gots to watch the shifting eyes
'neath the Stetson hats,
cold as steel
they’d like to pierce me
with a stare
"I wasn’t born yesterday mother,"
I study my steps
and is now wise
you take one at a time.

I cares for little
'cept delivering' the Blues
to the people like me,
that’s when I hit my natural peak!
and I is indulgent in seein'
you is comming with me
to the bottom of the river of whiskey,
the blues sustains me
been my real mother
since my baby left me.