Someone spilled blood many years ago
Someone spilled blood but do you know
That from the backwoods, where the Chuck Berrys grow
Come your long tall daddies of a rock and roll, oh, no
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Spinnin' down from the clouds like a tornado
Spinnin' out of control like a psychedelic soul
With a rhythm hittin' harder than Larry Holmes
Come your long tall daddies of rock and roll, oh, no
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Oh, will you Mr. Uplift Mofo, my man Bo Diddley
Hit sippin' a bottle of nickle ripple
Play the lickity split finger licking licks
For all you wicked city slick chicks
And all you nitty gritty hick
We'll make your nipples ripple
Make you wanna dip your dipple
Make you wanna soak your hickory stick
And that's right because my man has a grip on it
And I do mean on it, oh, which brings to mind
A very sinister minister kind of guy
A man named Little Richard
Who was born to make them bitches stir
That's right he'll make the sweet substance drip
From the middle of your hillbilly lips
And like the farmer milk his cow
The Howling Wolf will howl
And since times does allow
You all can dig into your
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods
Someone spilled blood but do you know
That from the backwoods, where the Chuck Berrys grow
Come your long tall daddies of a rock and roll, oh, no
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Spinnin' down from the clouds like a tornado
Spinnin' out of control like a psychedelic soul
With a rhythm hittin' harder than Larry Holmes
Come your long tall daddies of rock and roll, oh, no
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Oh, will you Mr. Uplift Mofo, my man Bo Diddley
Hit sippin' a bottle of nickle ripple
Play the lickity split finger licking licks
For all you wicked city slick chicks
And all you nitty gritty hick
We'll make your nipples ripple
Make you wanna dip your dipple
Make you wanna soak your hickory stick
And that's right because my man has a grip on it
And I do mean on it, oh, which brings to mind
A very sinister minister kind of guy
A man named Little Richard
Who was born to make them bitches stir
That's right he'll make the sweet substance drip
From the middle of your hillbilly lips
And like the farmer milk his cow
The Howling Wolf will howl
And since times does allow
You all can dig into your
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods
