(Spoken Intro)
Now if you an' I git our heads to meat
I'm sure we can flesh all this out...
(Riff into blues)
Don't give me no porterhouse from no poor slaughterhouse,
Knock off the stroganoff, I want my beef roamin' off
You can jus' can that bull, I ain't nobody's fool.
‘Cause that ribeye had redeye... my, my, my.
It's y'own claim you should be steakin’, so bring on home y'own bacon
Go pork y'own chop, it'll be y'own tongue to stop.
You can call me a ham, but ya know that I yam what I yam
An' frankly, that's about the wurst I can tell you.
Don’ try to talk me no turkey, don' jerk me no pemmican jerky
don't you throw me no mo' fowl balls, an' don' be tryin' to duck my calls
Don’ wan' to hear yo’ drumstick, you know da wing makin’ me sick
‘Cuz you are what you eat, an' I ain't no chicken.
Don't give me no salmon, Ella, 'cause I ain't no filet o' soul fella.
I won't see no sea food platter, so tell me now what's the matter
I swear to god, no mo' cod, an' I'll take a pass on yo' bass
An' lord knows I can’t say it louder, but I don’t want that chowder.
So maybe now you get my... carnivore beef.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.