(e. king, j. van zant)
This song goes out to all the money men
He drives around in a fancy car
Smokes those long cuban cigars
He dont know how to play guitar
He cant sing but still the pretty girls think hes a star
We play music got families to feed
Aint good with numbers and he knows we cant read
If we get a dollar you know he gets three
It aint hard to figure out its as simple as can be
Dont ask me ask the money man
These boys are livin in a fantasy land
I just keep em on the road so they can pay the money man
Ill be long gone before they understand
My promises are strong like a road made out of sand
I wanna be your money man
My mortgage is picked up by the band
I wanna be your money man
The boys, oh theyre sleepin out in the van
Dont ask me ask the money man
You boys are livin in fantasy land
You signed the dotted line Im takin all I can
Your moneys lookin good in my retirement plan
Thats just the way it is when your playin in a band
Thats my money man down on his knees
He aint prayin but he damn sure ought to be
Hes at a place where money doesnt grow on trees
And all his prison buddies doin more than shoot the breeze
How does it feel no money man
Not too good
What did you do with my money man
Well I a... well a you know a...
How does it feel to be a honey man
Are you sure that your still a man
Aw your dressed up like a little girl
Just shootin the breeze down on your knees
Money man, oh money man