My ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling, I want you to play with my ding-a-ling! We got to do our alma matter, we must do our alma matter When I was a little bitty boy My grandmother bought me a cute little toy Silver bells hanging on a string She told me it was

Born on the bayou Chasin' down a hoodoo there And I can still hear my old hound dog barkin' Now, when I was just a little boy Standin' to my daddy's knee My poppa said, "Son, don't let the man get you Do what he done to me" 'Cause he'll get you 'Cause

In a permanent state When I was a young boy I tried to listen All this noise, I'm waking up All this space I'm taking up Maybe you'll get what you wanted Maybe you'll stumble upon it Everything you ever wanted Maybe you'll know when you see it

The day the freebird fell Oh, I remember it well So many cried when Ronnie died He never said farewell What he'd say in a southern song Stories told still here long I was just a teenage boy on my way to school Freebird fell Mama mad at me for me 'cause I

There's something dying on the street You're gonna get back on your feet Up against the wall When they knock you down (No you can't stop now) Remember what I said Boy you was battle born Cause you can't stop now (Cause you can't stop now) You lost faith

Strip it down, down, down Back to you and me like it used to be When it was an old back road with an old school beat Cowboy boots by your little bare feet Let it out, tell me right now Everything I need in them white cotton sheets Dirty dance me slow in

His parents hustled So he was left alone by himself a lot So shit, he did whatever the fuck he wanted to do When boys in the hood came out, This little nigga rolled himself a joint And watched the whole motherfucker by itself His pops didn't give a fuck,

I said hey, Sister Moonshine I said hey, Sister Moonshine, Who's a stranger to everyone. So, -MAKE US ALL LAUGH- -MAKE US ALL GIVE- Make us all cry, Ooo when I was a small boy, Well, I could see the magic in a day, But, now I'm just a poor boy,

Well, I'm going to fetch my woman, people When the kid hits Alabama, people Don't you try to dog him 'round Well, I was born in Mississippi And I don't take any stuff from you I've got my pistols in my pockets boys I'm Alabama bound I've got my pistols

I wish those days could come back once more Why did those days ever have to go Looking back on when I Was a little nappy headed boy Then my only worry Was for Christmas what would be my toy Even though we sometimes Would not get a thing We were happy