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Went downtown on the two forty-nine |
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Play'n for recognition fo the New York town |
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See, me and my boys, got a rock 'n' roll band |
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They were so damn good, gonna lift up the man |
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Well, we got ups, we got downs |
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We got just so high 'til the sun goes down |
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Got the ego, can be abused |
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I got my two-toned shoes and I can sing the blues |
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Look out kids, it's the FBI |
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We got a problem, you keep me high |
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Put on your clothes, take the smile off your face |
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And put your money where tyour mouth is or get our this place |
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New York town is a meanass town |
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We got a thousand bands, singin' underground |
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Way down in New Orleans, it's the same old thing |
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Emotion' I music a merry old thing |
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Old king soul, he finally gave us a jolt |
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He played the vibes till nine and read from ten to four |
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He played upside down, he played inside out |
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Then a uniform band, he was throen into jail |
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Look out kids, it's the FBI |
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We got a problem, you keep me high |
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Put on your clothes, take the smile off your face |
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Put your money where your mouth is or get out this place |
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Gettin' hungry, I know little woman |
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Can't get a smell 'cause my nose is blocked |
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I'm so high, I can't believe it |
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Hotel dogs are knockin' on my door |
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Two nights of singin' nearly out on the end |
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Lift the parts red, oh, what a square |
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As soon as the man, there's no sweeter song |
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Listen McCartney, we're the band on the run |
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Look out kids, it's the FBI |
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We got a problem, you keep me high |
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Put on your clothes, take the smile off your face |
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And put your money where your mouth is or get out this place |
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Oh yeah |