Oh yeah!
Alright.
Shake it up.
T-bone Billy just a-singin' the blues,
he caught his lady with another man,
lit up a smoke and did some talkin'
with the back of his hand.
Smack!
She started shakin', started losin' her mind,
but he was kickin' back and playin' it cool.
Signed her walkin' papers,
took the 5:15 to Kalamazoo.
Sing for your supper.
Nobody rides for free.
Eat your heart out, send it C.O.D., yeah.
One, two, baby, what you do?
Three, four, let me show you the door.
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me.
Five, six, take your last licks.
Seven, eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight:
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me.
Now Billy-boy's out havin' a ball,
he's playin' fiddle at the local bar.
Dark shades, cool kicks,
he's Hollywood Boulevard.
Slick Daddy with his fat cigar, he's sayin':
"Sign along the dotted line."
He shook his head and said,
"All I need's that fiddle of mine. That's all."
Sing for your supper.
Nobody rides for free.
Take your big time,
I'll take care of me, me, yeah.
One, two, baby, what you do?
Three, four, let me show you the door.
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me.
Five, six, take your last licks.
Seven, eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight:
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me.
Say, trouble keeps knockin',
but Billy keeps rockin' like this.
Sing for your supper.
Nobody rides for free.
Take your big time,
I'll take care of me, me, me, yeah.
One, two, baby, what you do?
Three, four, let me show you the door.
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me.
Five, six, take your last licks.
Seven, eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight:
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of...me.
One, two, baby, what you do?
Oh, you're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me.
Five, six, take your last licks.
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of,
mess of, mess of me, yeah.
Make a mess of me and it'll be
the biggest mess you ever made, baby!