You can mess around if you want to
But there's some things a man just don't do
And if you see him comin' walkin' down the street
You better jump back Outta his way
Ever notice how the street gets empty
Every time he comes around
Coz he's got somethin' in his left hip pocket
Makes a bulldog hunker down
Funky-junky
Funky-junky
He lives on Misery Boulevard
About a half o' mile south of the graveyard
In a rundown,leaky roof, funky old dirt floor
One room pinelog shack
He lives on muskrat barbeque
And he sleeps on a railroad track
He's gotta tiger in his living room
He's gotta monkey on his back
Funky-junky
Funky-junky