Lyrics:

Alright
Pick it up, whoo

T-bone Billy just a-singin' the blues
He caught his lady with another man
Lit up a smoke and did some talkin' with the back of his hand, smack
She started shakin', started losing her mind
But he was kicking back and playing it cool
Signed her walkin' papers, took the 5:15 to Kalamazoo

Sing for your supper
Nobody rides for free
Well, your heart out, I'll send it C-O-D, yeah

One, two, baby, what you do?
Three, four, let me show you the door
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five, six, take your last licks
Seven, eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me

Now Billy-boy's out havin' a ball
He's playin' fiddle at the local bar
The dark shades, cool kicks, he's Hollywood Boulevard
Slick Daddy with his fat cigar
He's sayin', 'Sign upon the dotted line'
He shook his head and said 'All I need's that fiddle of mine, that's all'

Sing for your supper
Nobody rides for free
Take your big time I'll take care of m-m-me, m-m-me, yeah

One, two, baby, what you do?
Three, four, let me show you the door
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five, six, take your last licks
Seven, eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me

Say, trouble keeps knockin'
But Billy keeps rockin'
Like this, huh
Get on over here and sing like a rockstar, girl


Sing for your supper
Nobody rides for free
Take your big time I'll take care of m-m-me, m-m-me, m-m-me, yeah

One, two, baby, what you do?
Three, four, let me show you the door
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five, six, take your last licks
Seven, eight, I'm gonna give it to you straight
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-me
One, two, baby, what you do? Woah
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of me
Five, six, take your last licks (Play it)
You're better off dead than a-makin' a mess of, mess of, mess of me

Make a mess of me, it'll be the best mess you ever made, baby
Ha ha