Well, what you say, baby? You look ready as Mr. Freddie this black. How about you and
me going spinning at the track? What's that, homie? If you think I'm going dancing on
a dime, your clock is ticking on the wrong time. Well, what's your pleasure, treasure?
You call the plays, I'll dig the ways. Hey, daddy-o, I'm not so crude as to drop my mood
on a square from way back. I'm in there and have to dig life with father, and I mean father's
slack. Well, baby, your play gives my weight a solid flip. You snap the whip, I'll make
the trip. Well, lift up your boots and we'll broom on down to a knocked out shack on the
edge of town. There's an eight-feet combo that just won't quit. Keep walking till you
see a blue light lit. Fall in there and we'll see some sights. That's a house of blue lights.
There's fryers and broilers and Detroit barbecue ribs. But the treat of the treats is when
they serve you those fine eight-feets. You want to spend the rest of your brides down
at the house, the house of blue lights.
Hey, we'll have a time and we'll cut some rug while we dig those tunes like they should
be dug. It's a real homecoming for all those cats. Just drill it down the path of a well
for mats. Fall in there and we'll see some sights. That's a house, the house of blue lights.