My story starts in old Baghdad,
when a golden lamp was unearthed by a fine young lad,
named Balad in his name.
A stealer of tricks,
he examined the engraved arrow,
then Harold Clifford's
heart.
Rub it hard and make a wish.
Rub it hard and watch me grow.
Rub it hard and I
will come to obey your every command, you know.
He polished the lamp and a genie appeared,
swelling enormous muscles,
turban and a beard,
scimitar,
radish,
razor sharp and bright,
gold and silver,
satins and silks,
sparkling in the night.
You are my master.
His deep voice, boom, Tyrant mighty.
Position assumed.
I'm here to do your bidding, my friend.
Call me anytime with the lamp,
just email or send.
Rub it hard and make a wish.
Rub it hard and watch me grow.
Rub it hard and I will come to obey your every command,
you know.
Within days, Balad was a superstar,
famous and rich, in a Rolls Royce car.
Cash,
chicks and smash hits,
a wicked cool rapper,
seen in clubs with fine ladies by every new snapper.
Scoring lines of drugs all over the charts,
owning banks and department stores and hundreds of talks.
He was ruling the globe, a prince among men.
When he needed a lift,
he just polished the lamp again.
Rub it hard and make a wish.
Rub it hard and watch me grow.
Rub it hard and I will come to obey your every command,
you know.
But everything went wrong, the stupid fool.
Believed his own image, he thought he was cool.
He passed out one night, he lost the lamp.
Now he's back on the streets, a penniless tramp.
Rub it hard and make a wish.
Rub it hard and watch me grow.
Rub it hard and I will come to obey your every command,
you know.
Rub it hard and make a wish.
Rub it hard and watch me grow.
Rub it hard and I will come to obey your every command,
you know.
Rub it hard and make a wish.
Rub it hard and watch me grow.
Rub it hard and I will come
to obey your every command, you know.
Love it hard and make a wish.
Love it hard and watch me grow.
Love it hard and I will come to obey your every command.