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