| You don’t act up too much
 | 
| 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'
 | 
| But my sweet hunk o' trash
 | 
| 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'
 | 
| 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'
 | 
| But I’m still your sweet hunk o' trash
 | 
| 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
 | 
| Now baby
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| 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
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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'
 | 
| But you’re my sweet hunk o' trash
 | 
| Yes indeed! |