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No shoes, no shirt, no service
Reads the sign on the front screen door
Your friends 011 moke me nervous
You best keep 'em out of my store
I don't moke no bones about it
I don't need your barefoot blues
I con damn sure do without it
I keep a good shine on my shoes
You've used up all your credit
My patience all ran out
And it'll lake two months of pay days
To settle your account
So get them fools up off my front step
And get 'em out of here
I don't need that kind of business
Do I moke myself clear
Don't think I don't know it
You been stealin' me blind
You thought I wouldn't notice
Or you thought I wouldn't mind
But you've run out of excuses
Son you're wastin' my lime
Get your face on out the front door
Toke it down the line
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