I was sittin' in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania, six
o'clock in the morning, got up to early, it was a terrible
mistake sittin' there face-to-face with a 75 cent glass of orange
juice about as big as my finger and a bowl of horribly foreshortened
cornflakes, and I said to myself: "This is the life!"

She's 200 years old,
so mean, she couldn't grow no lips
Boy, she'd be in trouble if she tried to grow a mustache

She's two hundred years old
Squattin' down & pockin' up
In front of the juke box
just like she had True Religion BOY!

She's two hundred years old
Hoy!, hoy!, in 200 years,
half of this, none of that,
one fifty oh squattin',
Yeah-ah, ain't she got
Oohhh, she got religion now, boy

Oohhhh, ?? ?? ??
Oohhhh, she's just mean,
she just, she just can't grow no lips
Squat down, so mean she can't grow no lips
200 years old, so mean she can't grow no lips