I met a fat black mama on Sunday
And she told me one thing
She said, "You got the soul little brother"
"And you can play on those strings"
"But you got to give up on the stuff"
"Cos it'll get in the way"
I said, "Mama I know you're right"
"In everything that you say"
But I'm a bad son
And I ain't gonna change for anyone
I'm a bad son
And I ain't gonna change for anyone
I've heard the gospel choir sing
About the beauty of God
I've felt the force of the whiskey sting
And that's the closest I've got
Well I know that your intentions are good
But what's the use in you trying?
Cos I'm damned to be misunderstood
So what's the use in you crying?
Cos I'm a bad son
And I ain't gonna change for anyone
I'm a bad son
And I ain't gonna change for anyone
Cos I'm a bad son
And I ain't gonna change for anyone
I'm a bad son
And I ain't gonna change for anyone