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That Mama owns the home made thighs
That Papa knows the greasy talk
That Mama says to take a walk
He's the rubbernecker

Hit it, Christ

That Papa scopes the public place
Finds the Mama with the movie face
Chases Mama as he wastes her time
With his book of flawless come on lines
He's the rubbernecker

Go, Joe

I lay with my prey
She's dreaming of our future days
I've lied with this week's bride
And now my soft spot's growing tired
(Shame, shame, shame)

I feel it's my last meal
'Cause her boyfriend's back
For my life to steal

I'm the rubbernecker, invade space
I'm the rubbernecker in your face
My good eye may runnin' a wee bit slow
My bad eye keeps a-roamin' with a mind of its own

That Mama owns the home made thighs
That Papa knows the greasy talk