[Well, what you say, baby? You look ready as Mr.Freddy this black. How ‘bout you and me goin’ spinnin’ at the track?

What’s that, homey? If you think I’m goin’ dancin’ on a dime your clock is tickin’ 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 cool 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 Slack.

Well, baby, your play gives my weight a solid flip. You snap the whip, I’ll make the trip.]

Well, lace up your boots and we’ll groove on down, to a knocked down shack on the edge of town. There’s an eight piece combo that just won’t quit. Keep walkin’ till you see a blue light lit. Fall in there and we’ll see some sights at the house, the house, the House of Blue Lights.
There's fryers and broilers and Detroit barbeque ribs
But the treat of the treats is when they serve you those fine eight beats
You'll want to spend the rest of your brights
Down at the house, The house of blue lights

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 home comin' for







y.c