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James p. johnson / flournoy e. miller |
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You don't act up too much |
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Ain't got that glamour touch |
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You're trifling lazy |
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Ain't worth a cigarette ash |
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Look out here mamma |
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Look out here |
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You carry me too fast |
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You're just my good for nothin' |
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My sweet hunk o' trash |
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My, my how you sound |
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You're very short on looks |
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Dumb, when it comes to books |
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Look out, baby |
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Watch it, honey |
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And you stay full of corn |
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Just like a succotash |
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What you want me to do in my idle moments |
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You're just a good-for-nothin' |
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But my sweet hunk o' trash |
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Let me get a word in there honey, you running your mouth |
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You said i've worried you for years |
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I'm just a barfly moochin' beers |
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While you sweat over a hot stove slinging hash |
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Work my fingers right down to the elbows |
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Yes i may be good-for-nothin' |
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But i'm still your sweet hunk o' trash |
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First to admit it baby |
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You said i spread my love all around |
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And with the chicks all over town |
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But, how can i when you keep me broke |
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So i can't spend no cash |
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Yes i may be good-for-nothin' |
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But i'm still your sweet hunk o' trash |
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Listen hear pops, |
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You know you lie about your youth |
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I don't lie baby |
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I'm just careless with the truth, that's all |
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How careless can you be |
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Oh, no |
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With all your chicks |
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You try to make a flash |
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Now baby |
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It ain't like that, no |
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But you're still my good-for-nothin' |
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My sweet hunk o' trash |
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Now when you stay out very late |
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It sure makes me mad to wait how come, baby? |
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Cus, you come home too tired |
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To raise just one eyelash |
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Watch it baby |
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Watch it |
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You're just good-for-nothin' |
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But you're my sweet hunk o' trash |
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Yes indeed! |
