Well, I don't need your Jesus freaks
Well, I don't need your thought police
Well, I don't need your saving soul
Well, I don't need your mind control

Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass

Well, I don't need your howling moon
Well, I don't need your happy tune
Well, I don't need your jetting set
Well, I don't need your cigarettes

Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass

Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright
Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright

America, its society, it devours its youth

Well, I don't want your O-J juice
Well, I don't want your Lenny Bruce
Well, I don't want your flying nun
Well, I don't want your golden gun

Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass

Well, I'm a mad hatter, baby, ride a boogie machine
Blastin' 8-track tapes when I'm on the scene
I'm a long-gone daddy in a boogaloo
And I stitch it all together with super glue

(Stop playing around man)
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass

Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright
Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings