Far be it for me to say you're loose son
Far be it for me to say you're no one
I've heard your excuse, I've heard your excuse
I've heard your excuses, every one You don't know what's going
You don't know what's going
You don't know what's going on my son Far be it for me to say you're brain dead
It might help if you get your ass out of bed
It twists me inside to see your girlfriend's backside
She get tongue-tied and run You don't know what's going
You don't know what's going
You don't know what's going on my son My son, my son
You're my son
You're my son
I'm older than you
You can't be a man too
Your hair's too long
Get out of my home
Get out of my home Papa, growing old
You're growing cold
I said growing old
You're growing cold
You went too far
You crashed my car
You crashed my car
You crashed my car
I'm in a rage
Get off of that stage
Get off of that stage
Okay, okay