Lyrics: Jason Ricci
Music: Jason Ricci
Street gravy and the broken beads
And the Quarter rats are all following me
Gutter punks they’re kicking heroin
Can’t hop the train back to Oregon
Khris Royal down at the Spotte Cat
Doubling on bass and alto sax
Brass band blowing for the hell of it
Tuba sounds just like an elephant
Bass line flowing up from Trinidad
They’re cooking up and speeding up
Like Breaking Bad
Welcome to the Big Diseasey
More electric than old Ken Kesey
Get the thrill of the chill
Down at Negril
Delta Funk gonna take you order in the Quarter
Adrian Zeus got the rush and the power
Gonna play five sets all over an hour
Got the funk so strong like Obi-Wan
Spy boy yelling ‘Indian’
Hot 8 haunting this old ghost town
Way up town and thick as thieves
Vidacovich trio at the Maple Leaf
Every day of the week we in high gear
Playing harder in a day than New York in a year
Sunday morning cooking etouffee
Saints in the dome
We about to play
Never forget 3-28
It’s 504 New Orleans Saints
Once it’s in you you can’t lose it
Jazz, Funk and Blues
And New Orleans music
It’s greasy and it’s gritty
And it’s in the cracks
You know we’re gonna pull it,
Back
Pull it back
pull it back
Who dat we dat all dat
Cat attack,
‘Meow’