(Ry Cooder & Jim Keltner)
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Lonesome outerspace invader blasting through the night
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Tuning in the soul music on the satellite
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All that low-down funky rhythm makes him jump and shout
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Just got to find that ghetto planet that everyone's talkin' about
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Tuning in the local scene on the radio
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The D.J. on the radar screen is telling him where to go
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The funky fever's getting louder, sounds just like a soul encounter
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Cruisin' for some bar-b-que right up Central Avenue
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And he's got a little dance he wants to do
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He pulls up to a big night club in his UFO
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Gets right in with all the folks out on the big dance floor
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It really stops the action, everybody's mystified
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To see that little step he's got as he goes glidin' by
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Now, he ain't doin' the Gigolo 'cause he ain't got no hips
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Looks like the Funky Chicken man, 'cept he ain't got no hips
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Those shiny metal threads he's wearin' really got some class
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I'd say he was doin' the Bomp, but I can't seem to find his ass
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Now, everybody fall in love
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He's reet, he's neat, he can't be beat
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You shake your shimmy like I shake mine
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He's hand held and he's jet propelled
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Shake it up from sun to sun
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He's fast and loose, he's full of juice
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Shake it like an atomic bomb
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He's got the goose so what's the use
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That UFO has landed in the ghetto
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UFO HAS LANDED IN THE GHETTO
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Ry Cooder |