Lyrics:

What's up? What's up? What's up motherfucker? I think I call your bluff Who's there? Who's there? I think I know, but I don't think I care Came in on the Flyer honey, 1952. I ain't for hire for money so I'll tell you what I'll do I'm gonna be a gangster, a gangster of love I might not be Al Capone, but I think I'll be quite good I'm all I got right now, so what are we gonna do I think I'm a desperado, desperate for you Way cool. Way cool. I don't talk like this, but I like to bend the rules. Too bad, it's too bad. To think of the face of a man whose woman you had Came in on the Silver Streak, 1964. I ain't for hire for money, but it sure beats being poor I'm gonna be an outlaw, just like Jesse James Rob all of your banks And the occasional train And if Bobby Ford should shoot me, I know just what you'd do That's why