Your Momma kissed the chauffer,
Your Poppa balled the cook,
Your sister did the dirty,
in the middle of the book,
The thirteens. Right On.
Your daughter wears a jock strap,
Your son he wears a bra
Your brother jonesed your cousin
in the back seat of the car.
The thirteens. Right On.
Your money thinks you're something
But if I'd learn to curse,
I'd tell you what your name is
But there just ain't nothing worse
than
The thirteens. Right On.