In the Tropicana on a Saturday night
In we walked with Bobby and friends
We were all taking bets, on who would be next
With a blonde whose name was Mercedes Benz
Twenty got me nothing and fifty weren't much better
A hundred that was nearer the mark
For two hundred dollars she would make me holler
But we'd have to do it in the dark
Oh Debbie don't you do that to the boys
Ya gonna make them scream all night
You lick your lips honey, shake your hips honey
Make it feel just right
Forty minutes later I was best friends with the
Waiter
And looking slightly worse for wear
He told me to hit on the red headed chick
Named Martini anytime anywhere
(yeah right)
Back at my apartment in the downstairs department
I was working like a dog on a bone
Now we're in bed, I hope I'm not in the red
Gee babe, I left my Amex at home
Oh Debbie don't you do that to the boys
What you're doin' there just aint allowed
Lets take a minute of your precious time honey
Come on and meet the crowd
Debbie this is Dave, he can never behave
Bruce, Alex, Ricky and Paul
And this is my mate red, he thinks he's pretty hot in
Bed
Debbie get up there and work that
That shower stall baby
Oh Debbie don't you do that to the boys
Ya gonna make them scream all night
Move your legs honey shake your ass honey
Make it feel just right
Oh Debbie do it once more for the boys
Pull ya boots on tight
Any girl with sense loves those dead presidents
They keep ya, they keep ya warm at night
Move your legs honey shake your ass honey
Make it feel just right, no no no
Lick your lips honey, shake your hips honey
Make it feel just right
Oh Debbie don't ya do that to this boy
I won't go down without a fight
No no no
Oh, I'm not going down there
(please).
Writer(s): Richard Bailey, Jonathan Gray
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