Booker T. Jones - Tramp lyrics

Tramp What you call me? Tramp You didn't You don't wear continental clothes, or Stetson hats Well, I tell you one dog-gone thing It makes me feel good to know one thing I know I'm a lover Matter of opinion That's all right, mama was, papa too And I'm the only child Lovin' is all I know to do You know what, Otis? What? You're country That's all right You straight from the Georgia woods That's good You know what? You wear overalls And big old brogan shoes And you need a haircut, tramp Haircut? Woman, you foolin', I'm a lover Mama was grandmama, papa too Boogaloo, all that stuff and I'm the only Son of a gun this side of the sun, tramp [Incomprehensible] You know what, Otis? I don't care what you say, you're still a tramp What? That's right You haven't even got a fat bankroll in your pocket You probably haven't even got twenty-five cents I got six Cadillacs, five Lincolns, four Fords Six Mercuries, three T-Birds, Mustang I'm a lover, mama was, papa too I tell you one thing Well tell me I'm the only son of a gun this side of the Sun You're a tramp, Otis No I'm not I don't care what you say, you're still a tramp What's wrong with that? Look here, you ain't got no money I got everything You can't buy me all those minks And sables and all that stuff I want I can buy you minks, rats, frogs, squirrels, rabbits Anything you want, woman Look, you can go out in the Georgia woods And catch them, baby Oh, you foolin' You're still a tramp That's all right You a tramp, Otis, you just a tramp That's all right You wear overalls You need a haircut, baby Cut off some of that hair off your head You think you a lover, huh?