| The rockers, rockers, rockers got my life movin' fast
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| But the jazzers, jazzers, jazzers, they’re livin' in the past
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| And all the people, people, people, they just wanna dance
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| Oh come on baby, baby, baby, do you wanna take a chance?
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| Talkin' mean out on the street
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| Pickin' strings and pickin' fights
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| Put my rooster on the beat
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| Pull 'em down and wear 'em tight
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| What say you, say you, say you, you wanna be a band?
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| But they don’t pay you, pay you, pay you when you’re living in a van
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| And all this talkin', talkin', talkin' don’t get you anywhere
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| Let’s all go out and do it, do it, do it while we’re young enough to care
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| Talkin' mean out on the street
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| Pickin' strings and pickin' fights
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| Put my rooster on the beat
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| Pull 'em down and wear 'em tight
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| This showbiz, showbiz, showbiz is more or less a joke
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| But do I look good, look good, look good in the mirror made of smoke?
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| Cause I got a feelin', feelin', feelin' that you don’t give a damn
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| Aw, come on baby, baby, baby, do you know who I am?
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| Talkin' mean out on the street
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| Pickin' strings and pickin' fights
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| Put my rooster on the beat
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| Pull 'em down and wear 'em tight |