WBFNJ

LYRICS:

WBFNJ
Words & Music by Paul Nahay & John Sawoski

BOTH: We’re White Boys, from New Jersey!
PAUL: Yo, chill out while we tell you ’bout the two of us
JOHN: No, our names aren’t Mortimer, Clyde, or Gus, I’m John
PAUL: I’m Paul, sort of a Beatles situation,
Except we’re of Hungarian
JOHN: And Polish
BOTH: derivation.
JOHN: I was born in ’62
PAUL: Me in 1958
BOTH: And we both grew up in the Garden State
PAUL: But don’t be givin’ us no Turnpike crap
JOHN: Yeah, Jersey means so much more than that… to us

BOTH: White Boys, from New Jersey/ White Boys, White Boys from New Jersey!
PAUL: So what’s the scoop, white boy?
JOHN: Did you know that New Jersey has the densest population and more
Superfund sites than any state in the nation?
PAUL: Why, of COURSE I did! What, you think I’m some FOOL?
That’s the FIRST thing they taught us back in nursery school!
JOHN: Yet we didn’t know each other in our youth,
PAUL: Not to my knowledge, though I heard you play piano down at
Glassboro State College. **** (Grieg Concerto Theme) ****
JOHN: But we really met when I was in your class at Stanford U.
PAUL: And you wrote a song that made me laugh so hard, I spewed, it was
Full of ref’rences to every style of music, so I
Said “You’ve got the talent – now get out of here and use it”, you

BOTH: White Boy, from New Jersey/ White Boy, White Boy from New Jersey!
GIRLS: Oh, you White Boy – Talented White Boy… from New Jersey!
PAUL: Then you moved out to L.A.
JOHN: And you to Washington, D.C.
BOTH: And we began collaborating via AT&T.
PAUL: We talked about the projects that we wanted to do next
JOHN: Although our conversations always ended up about sex
PAUL: Well, what’d you expect? We’re studly dudes
JOHN: We like to party hardy
PAUL: Yeah,
BOTH: We’re no prudes !!!
JOHN: So when the breathin’ gets heavy
PAUL: And the lights start dimmin’,
BOTH: Sorry, gay guys, but… we do women
PAUL: like

BOTH: White Boys, from New Jersey/ White Boys, White Boys from New Jersey!
GIRLS: Oh, you White Boys! Love them White Boys… from New Jersey!
PAUL: Now, we’re tryin’ to break into this crazy showbiz
You played the Beverly Wilshire
JOHN: Don’t forget you played “Les Miz”, but whereas
Others may aspire to their “Master of Arts”
BOTH: We want to make it big by rappin’ to the top o’ the charts
JOHN: We crave the fame and fortune, and the fringes it will bring
PAUL: Like having Michael and Madonna phoning US for songs to sing
JOHN: We’ll have bikinied babes around us
PAUL: Summer
JOHN: Winter
PAUL: Spring
JOHN: And fall
BOTH: Pretty good for two white guys
JOHN: Jumpin’ John
PAUL: And Pumpin’ Paul,
JOHN: Your basic

BOTH: White Boys, from New Jersey/ White Boys, White Boys from New Jersey!
GIRLS: Oh, you White Boys – Gotta have White Boys…
JOHN: Solo time.
**** (Bach) ****
PAUL: No way….. **** (Mozart) ****
PAUL: Yeh right…. **** (Chopin) ****
PAUL: Bogus….. **** (Modern) ****
PAUL: Slammin’….**** (Modern) ****
JOHN: We’re so white!!!

PAUL: Every now and then, even WE wish we were black
JOHN: So the world would take us seriously when we rap
PAUL: We’ve even contemplated certain surgical procedures
That would darken and extend our anatomical features
JOHN: But after considerable consideration
We’ve decided against such cosmetic alterations
PAUL: ‘Cause no matter where we live, how we talk, or what we do
JOHN: We simply can’t help it, we’re just too

BOTH: White Boys, from New Jersey/ White Boys, White Boys from New Jersey!
We’re White Boys, from New Jersey
White Boys, White Boys from New Jersey!
GIRLS: Oh, you White Boys/Gimme a White Boy… from New Jersey!
Love them White Boys/Do it with White Boys… from New Jersey!
JOHN: (Spoken) Boy, I’m hungry.
PAUL: (Spoken) Wanna go to donut king?
JOHN: (Spoken) How ‘bout Bob’s House of Lard?
PAUL: (Spoken) Yeh, you only live once.

© 1993 Million Oaks Music (ASCAP) AND (P) 2020 ZFD Productions. All Rights Reserved.

Jersey Girls

Words and Music by Paul Nahay and John Sawoski

PAUL: I was walking down the street in L.A.
When I was approached by an incredible babe.
She must have though that I was hip
‘Cause she asked me to watch her do the Sunset Strip

Now it sounded real tempting, but I had to decline
As she didn’t measure up to certain standards of mine
She had a mega-babe topography
But she was handicapped geographically

GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)
GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)

JOHN: As I was hailin’ a cab on the Upper West Side,
A sexy lady in a limo offered me a ride
I said I had to make the World Trade Center in an hour
When she opened up her blouse and showed
her own Twin Towers

Now, I hope I wasn’t rude turning down her invitation,
But I had some reservations about her present location
Though it’s clear I could’ve had some sophisticated futzin’
The ass is always greener on the other side of the Hudson

GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
JOHN: From High Point down to Cape May,
only Jersey Girls do it my way
GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
PAUL: From Atlantic City to Cherry Hill,
only Jersey Girls give me that thrill

ALL: I want a Jersey Girl
Not an L.A. or New York girl
‘Cause only Jersey Girls
Do it in New Jersey all night long

(Guitar Solo)
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)
(Guitar Solo)
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)

PAUL: I was admiring the Mona Lisa in the Louvre
When two Parisian chicks asked me out to groove
I said I was in France to enhance my education
So they said they’d be my guide on a menage à trois vacation

Now I didn’t want to hurt Franco-American relations
But I RSVP’d “no” in spite of their strong protestations
For I knew then what I needed,
and my craving made me frantic
For the women that I wanted only lived across the Atlantic

GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)
GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)

GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
JOHN: From High Point down to Cape May,
only Jersey Girls do it my way
GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
PAUL: From Atlantic City to Cherry Hill,
only Jersey Girls give me that thrill

GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)
GIRLS: Give me a Jersey Girl, a Jersey Girl
BOTH: (Jersey Girls, Jersey Girls)


© 1993 Million Oaks Music (ASCAP) AND (P) 2020 ZFD Productions. All rights reserved.

Starving Black Hole

Words and Music by Ryan S. Moore, Paul Nahay & John Sawoski

JOHN: The White Boys were cruisin’ the streets of downtown Newark
Lookin’ to get some play
When we noticed an ad about a rapping contest
Which we figured could get us major babes
So we entered the contest and really kicked butt
But the judges must have thought we sounded like poop.
‘Cause they gave us last prize – a pair of tickets
To the factory tour at Campbell’s Soup.
Needless to say, we were pretty bummed out
By the way they dissed us when we thought we’d slammed ‘em
But having no other plans that day
We took the tickets and a bus down to Camden.
While on the tour we slipped on some tomatoes,
Slid across the floor on a conveyor belt…
Next thing we knew we were packed into crates addressed
NASA, Florida, attention: Space Shuttle
PAUL: This is mission control. We seem to
have some unaccounted-for extra weight on board
However, our computers indicate we are go
So prepare to be blasted out of your gourd
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 BLAST OFF (FX) We have liftoff (FX)

JOHN: Soon the captain found us, and said
PAUL: You’re expendable
So I’m assigning you a destination to explore
Your mission is to seek out and boldly enter
A place where no man has gone before:

PAUL: It’s not a mini black hole
Not a giant black hole
Not a frozen black hole
But a
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

JOHN: Not a mini black hole?
PAUL: Too small
JOHN: Not a giant black hole?
PAUL: Too large
JOHN: Not a frozen black hole?
PAUL: Too cold
It’s a
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

JOHN: Now, we experienced confusion ’bout what he said
Together with nausea from our weightless condition
For though black holes were mentioned in comics we’d read
We didn’t understand the purpose of our mission
So, the captain explained that a Starving Black Hole
Is a heavenly body that clenches like a fist
And sucks you in with a force so strong
Not a man alive is able to resist
Our job, he said, was to plunge its depths
And use our manned units to measure its pulsation
And if we were lucky, it would respond
With electro-magnetic bio-tech gyrations
Which would send our module’s head into reception overload
Causing lights to blink and fuses to blow
But the captain seemed to think that we’d come out all right
If we just got down to business, and didn’t take all night
So we said we were ready, and we understood the plan
‘Cause we knew this was our chance to prove ourselves a man
But even though our minds were prepared to try it, we
Experienced bodily performance anxiety

PAUL: Don’t just stand there with your hands in your pockets
JOHN: he said
PAUL: Oxidize and pressurize the fuel pumps of your rockets
Check your spherical reserves and synchronize
so you can dock it with that
GIRL: Starving Black Hole
JOHN: So we suited up, and stood erect
Aimed our pod at the hole and pushed “eject”
And with a payload to deliver and a mission to be done
We discovered black hole probing could be lots of fun!

JOHN: Don’t want a mini black hole
No giant black hole
Forget that frozen black hole
Give me a
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

ALL: Not a mini black hole?
JOHN: Too small
ALL: Not a giant black hole?
JOHN: Too large
ALL: Not a frozen black hole?
JOHN: Too cold
It’s a
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

GIRL: Star light, star bright, star whose orbit holds me tight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
swallow the manned probe I see tonight!

JOHN: Don’t want a mini black hole
No giant black hole
Forget that frozen black hole
Give me a
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

ALL: Not a mini black hole?
JOHN: Too small
ALL: Not a giant black hole?
JOHN: Too large
ALL: Not a frozen black hole?
JOHN: Too cold
But a
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

JOHN: ‘Cause its really very simple if you’ve got the right technique
The basic docking maneuver’s known by every techno-geek
So with some practice you, too, can rendezvous
ten times a week with any
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

PAUL: And if you follow the procedures that I’ve outlined so precisely
All your new celestial rendezvous will turn out very nicely
For there’s nothing as enticing as your very first encounter with a
GIRL: Starving Black Hole

JOHN: Oh, yeh!
 

© 1993 MooreMusic4U (ASCAP)/Million Oaks Music (ASCAP) and (P) 2020 MooreMusic4U/ZFD Productions. P.O. Box 7060, Beverly Hills, CA 90212

Rap Waltz

Words and Music by John Sawoski and Paul Nahay

GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm
White Boys got soul
White Boys got rhythm
BOTH: Everybody waltz!

FX: One, two, three!

JOHN: Do the rap waltz!
PAUL: Let’s jam!
JOHN: Everybody clap your hands!
PAUL: Do the rap waltz!
JOHN: Make a move!
PAUL: Come dance the White Boys’ funky groove!
BOTH: Everybody waltz!!!

JOHN: Now, Caucasians, as a rule, aren’t known for having rhythm
It seems the Good Lord in His wisdom just didn’t put it in ’em
PAUL: But the White Boys From New Jersey are a notable exception
We got the beat from the thumping that preceded our conception.
JOHN: Our piano teachers emphasized the study of the classics
So we obeyed, and made no waves, pursuing musical scholastics
PAUL: Until the day when we combined a waltz together with a rap beat
And the concoction really rocked ‘n’ knocked our socks off
JOHN: It was quite neat

PAUL: It’s a convoluted systematic rhythm
JOHN: Johann Strauss is in his grave, but this would flip him
PAUL: We took layered polyrhythmic anacruses,
JOHN: Hemiolas, arses, icti, and Watusi
PAUL: Then we added compound metrical durations
JOHN: In the most outrageous rhythmic combinations
PAUL: But the reason for this all is not complex:
BOTH: We simply want more opportunities for sex

JOHN: Do the rap waltz!
PAUL: Let’s jam!
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
JOHN: Everybody clap your hands!
GIRLS: White Boys got soul!
PAUL: Do the rap waltz!
JOHN: Make a move!
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
PAUL: Come dance the White Boys’ funky groove!
BOTH: Everybody waltz!!!

JOHN: It’s been awhile since a waltz went all the way to Number One
PAUL: So when the White Boys From New Jersey rocked a waltz,
the world was stunned
JOHN: Ever since our song monopolized the airwaves of the nation
BOTH: We’ve induced a massive case of musical intoxication
PAUL: All the kids are really grooving to our funky kickin’ cadence
JOHN: As we savor the affections of adoring nubile maidens
Who’d have thought that we could meet
so many babes who’d make our nights sweet
PAUL: By permuting syncopated variations on a white beat?

PAUL: It’s a convoluted systematic rhythm
JOHN: Johann Strauss is in his grave, but this would flip him
PAUL: We took layered polyrhythmic anacruses,
JOHN: Hemiolas, arses, icti, and Watusi
PAUL: Then we added compound metrical durations
JOHN: In the most outrageous rhythmic combinations
PAUL: But the reason for this all is not complex:
BOTH: We simply want more opportunities for sex


JOHN: Do the rap waltz!
PAUL: Let’s jam!
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
JOHN: Everybody clap your hands!
GIRLS: White Boys got soul!
PAUL: Do the rap waltz!
JOHN: Make a move!
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
PAUL: Come dance the White Boys’ funky groove!
BOTH: Everybody waltz!!!

JOHN: Welcome to Jumpin’ John
PAUL: And Pumpin’ Paul’s
BOTH: Dance studio
GIRL: Let’s dance!

PAUL: Anyone can do it
JOHN: There’s really nothing to it
PAUL: Just follow our lead:
JOHN: On the downbeat you jump up
GIRL: Jump it!
PAUL: On the upbeat you pump down
GIRL: Pump it!
JOHN: So get on your feet, get with the beat
PAUL: Four, five, six!!!
FX: One!
GIRL: Jump it! Pump it!
FX: Two!
GIRL: Pump it!
PAUL: Get off your rump! Get off on the thump!
JOHN: Slip and slide and bump!
PAUL: Push it! Come on!
GIRL: Push it!
PAUL: Use your tush!
JOHN: It’ll make your blood boil.
GIRL: Give it to me baby. Oh yeah.
BOTH: Oom-Pah-Pah!!!

PAUL: It’s a convoluted systematic rhythm
JOHN: Johann Strauss is in his grave, but this would flip him
PAUL: We took layered polyrhythmic anacruses,
JOHN: Hemiolas, arses, icti, and Watusi
PAUL: Then we added compound metrical durations
JOHN: In the most outrageous rhythmic combinations
PAUL: But the reason for this all is not complex:
BOTH: We simply want more opportunities for sex

JOHN: Do the rap waltz!
PAUL: Let’s jam!
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
JOHN: Everybody clap your hands!
GIRLS: White Boys got soul!
PAUL: Do the rap waltz!
JOHN: Make a move!
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
PAUL: Come dance the White Boys’ funky groove!
BOTH: Everybody waltz!!!

JOHN: Do the rap waltz!
PAUL: Just do it!
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
PAUL: We’re groovin’ hard…
JOHN: So don’t poo-poo it!
GIRLS: White Boys got soul!
JOHN: It’s not Beethoven’s Fifth, or Tchaikovsky’s Sixth…
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!
BOTH: But it helps the White Boys get their kicks.

WOMEN: (Screams)
I want John!
I want Paul!
Ooh, baby, you’ve got rhythm
GIRLS: White Boys got rhythm!

© 1993 Million Oaks Music (ASCAP) AND (P) 2020 ZFD Productions. All rights reserved.

Psycho Bitch From Hell

Words & Music by Paul Nahay and John Sawoski

(Woman’s voice: “Hi, it’s me. Leave word. By.”)
VERSE 1:
If she were the weather, she’d only rain,
and if she were a plumber, she’d clog up your drain
If she were your car, she wouldn’t start
And if she were a surgeon, she’d rip out your heart
If she were a telephone, you’d be disconnected
And if she were your genitals, you’d be infected

CHORUS:
She’s a Psycho Bitch From Hell
Her touch is torture, her love is hate
She’s a Psycho Bitch From Hell
I’d leave her now, but the sex is great
Just to look at her, you could never tell
How she treats me bad so very well
She’s my very own personal
Psycho Bitch From Hell

VERSE 2:
If she were a waitress, she’d spit in your drink
And if she were your liferaft, you’d sink
If she were your conscience, you wouldn’t think twice
And if she were a German, her name would be Scheiss
If she were a barber, she’d cut off your head
And if she were your grandma, she’d pump you with lead

CHORUS

BRIDGE:
Now don’t get me wrong, you know I love my baby –
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
It’s just the way that she treats me lately –
You’d think she was sent by Lucifer.

VERSE 3:
If she were a preacher, she’d mock your beliefs
And if she were a dentist, she’d knock out your teeth
If she were a clown, she’d make you cry
And if she were your lawyer, well, you’d fry
If she were your therapist, you’d lose your mind
But as a mortician, she’d do just fine

CHORUS

© 1993 Million Oaks Music (ASCAP) AND (P) 2020 ZFD Productions. All rights reserved.