Ooh, the way you love me, lady,
I get so hard now I could die
Ooh, the way you love me, sugar,
I get so hard now I could die
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, baby,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, girl,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Mark:
Oh, do you really wanna please me?
Howard:
You know I do, baby
Mark:
Well, tell me why you do it
I really wanna know
Howard:
Oh, no, no, I wouldn't be right
For me to tell you tonight
Mark:
You better tell me right away
Or I pack up and go!
Howard:
Don't get mad
It ain't no big thing
Mark:
You better tell me right away,
Don't you treat me cold
Howard:
HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!
Well, there are a lot of reasons why I'd . . . I'd drag a girl such as yourself
back to this . . . plastic hotel room and . . . rip you off for spare change to
run a . . . to run a vibrating machine attached to this queen-size,
bulk-purchase, kapok-infested, do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed
and . . . and make you take off all your little clothes . . . until you are
nearly STARK RAVING NUDE! (Save for your chrome-with-heavy-duty-leather-thong
Peace Medallion, heh . . . ) And make you assume a series of marginally erotic
poses involving . . . a plastic chair and . . . an old guitar strap while I . .
. did a wee-wee in your hair and . . . beat you with a pair of tennis shoes . .
. I got from Jeff Beck
Send "Magic Fingers" Ringtone to your Cell 
I get so hard now I could die
Ooh, the way you love me, sugar,
I get so hard now I could die
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, baby,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Ooh, the way you squeeze me, girl,
Red balloons just pop behind my eyes
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
And try me on for size
Mark:
Oh, do you really wanna please me?
Howard:
You know I do, baby
Mark:
Well, tell me why you do it
I really wanna know
Howard:
Oh, no, no, I wouldn't be right
For me to tell you tonight
Mark:
You better tell me right away
Or I pack up and go!
Howard:
Don't get mad
It ain't no big thing
Mark:
You better tell me right away,
Don't you treat me cold
Howard:
HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT!
Well, there are a lot of reasons why I'd . . . I'd drag a girl such as yourself
back to this . . . plastic hotel room and . . . rip you off for spare change to
run a . . . to run a vibrating machine attached to this queen-size,
bulk-purchase, kapok-infested, do-not-remove-tag-under-penalty-of-law type bed
and . . . and make you take off all your little clothes . . . until you are
nearly STARK RAVING NUDE! (Save for your chrome-with-heavy-duty-leather-thong
Peace Medallion, heh . . . ) And make you assume a series of marginally erotic
poses involving . . . a plastic chair and . . . an old guitar strap while I . .
. did a wee-wee in your hair and . . . beat you with a pair of tennis shoes . .
. I got from Jeff Beck
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