I'm gonna stick like glue Stuck on you Yeah, yeah, because I'm Yes-sir-ee, uh, uh Stick, because I'm Hide in the kitchen, hide in the hall Ain't gonna do you no good at all Cause once I catch ya, and the kissin' starts

Just your pariah Ain't no messiah I'm your pariah For your desire Do you believe every word I say? Pariah from society Addicted to sobriety A product of a virgin birth Another God on Earth, yes that's your fantasy

Can I change your mind? Racey days help me through the hopeless haze But my, oh, my Tragic eyes, I can't even recognize myself So if the answer is no Out again, a siren screams at half-past ten And you won't let go While I ignore, that we both felt like

It's fighting back them butterflies It's call it in the air, alright Yes sir, we want the ball And it's knocking heads and talking trash It's slinging mud and dirt and grass It's I got your number, I got your back When your back's against the wall You

Beach of Fortune and the neon sky You know while back with us will be go tonight That's what they told us and they must be right, so let's ride They built this city for me and you yeah, Snoop A yes sir, radio station, BUSH69 when you're down Take me to

I was the last child, just a punk in the street Home sweet home Take me back to a south Tallahassee Down cross the bridge to my sweet sassafrassy Can't stand up on my feet in the city Got to get back to the real nitty-gritty Yes sir, no sir Don't come

It's fighting back them butterflies It's call it in the air, alright Yes sir, we want the ball And it's knocking heads and talking trash It's slinging mud and dirt and grass It's I got your number, I got your back When your back's against the wall You

You know we're straight out of that dirty south Dirty roads, nobody got no money Got them shined up pickup trucks Whistlin' at them honies From the country, yes sir You know we're straight out of that long week work At night, everybody wanna party All

It's fighting back them butterflies It's call it in the air, alright Yes sir, we want the ball And it's knocking heads and talking trash It's slinging mud and dirt and grass It's I got your number, I got your back When your back's against the wall You

Sorry, you're so sorry Don't be sorry Man has known and now he's blown it Upside down and hell's the only sound, we did an awful job Eyes are full of desire Mind is so ill-at-ease Everything is on fire Out of rhyme or reason, everyone's to blame Children