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