[Bootsy:]
Hello beach, I suppose you know this is those crazios calling,
Uh, long distance baby.
I'd just like to be your bridge over troubled waters mama
Dig,while I smoke on it.

Come Saturday night
When all the world is counting sheep I'll count the moments
Till I have to leave your side
Come Saturday night
When all but the moon is fast asleep I'll watch the sun rise
And leap into your eyes

[Chorus:]
She's a lot of fun. She likes to come on much too strong
She's a lot of fun. Think that she's the only freak been born
As a matter of fact, she's not the only sand at the beach
Or to be exact, there's a whole lot of beaches

[Bootsy:]
Mama, be my beach
Ahhh...I'd just like to say, baby
Oh, I just feel so good just being able to talk to you for a while, uh
Maybe you remember the last time we was together
And how you rubbed me on my head, uh
Oh baby it felt so good, you make me want to say oh baby!

Come 4th of July
When all the vultures wait in line I'll wait in limbo
To lay upon your bod
Come 4th of July
When all the vultures wait in line to cop their suntans
And lay upon your bod

[Chorus:]

[Bootsy:]
Mama be my beach, beach
Uh...what's in the sand, uh beach?
Uh, maybe seashells of a clover...or something
And maybe a few octo-pupupupupupusses-uh
Oh I'm walking over your board

Copyright: Word Collections Publishing
Writer(s): George Bernard Worrell, George Clinton Jr., William Earl Collins