Went downtown on the 249
Playin' for recognition of the New York town
See, me and the boys got a rock 'n' roll band
They were so damn good, gonna lift up the man
Yeah
Well, we got ups, we got downs
We got just so high 'til the sun goes down
Got the ego, can be abused
I got my two-toned shoes
And I can sing the blues

Look out, kids, it's the FBI
We got a problem, you keep me high
Put on your clothes, take the smile off your face
And put your money where your mouth is or get out this place

New York town is a mean ass town
We got a thousand bands singin' underground
Way down in New Orleans it's the same old thing
Emotional music a merry old thing
Well, Old King Soul, he finally gave us a jolt
He played the vibes 'til 9 and read from 10 to 4
He played upside down, he played inside out
Then a uniform band he was thrown into jail

Look out, kids, it's the FBI
We got a problem, you keep me high
Put on your clothes, take the smile off your face
And put your money where your mouth is or get out this place

Gettin' hungry, I know, little woman
Can't get a smell 'cause my nose is blocked
I'm so high, I can't believe it
Hotel dogs are knockin' on my door
Two night of singin' nearly out on the end
Left the two parts red, oh what a square
As soon as the man, there's no sweeter song
Listen, Mc Cartney, we're the band on the run

Look out, kids, it's the FBI
We got a problem, you keep me high
Put on your clothes, take the smile off your face
And put your money where your mouth is or get out this place
Oh yeah