| Lyrics: | What's up? What's up? What's up motherfucker?
I think I call your bluff
Who's there? Who's
there?
I think I know, but I don't think I care
Came in on the Flyer honey, 1952.
I
ain't for hire for money so I'll tell you what I'll do
I'm gonna be a gangster, a gangster of
love
I might not be Al Capone, but I think I'll be quite good
I'm all I got right now, so
what are we gonna do
I think I'm a desperado, desperate for you
Way cool. Way
cool.
I don't talk like this, but I like to bend the rules.
Too bad, it's too bad.
To
think of the face of a man whose woman you had
Came in on the Silver Streak, 1964.
I
ain't for hire for money, but it sure beats being poor
I'm gonna be an outlaw, just like Jesse
James
Rob all of your banks
And the occasional train
And if Bobby Ford should shoot me,
I know just what you'd do
That's why |
