No shoes, no shirt, no service Reads the sign on the front screen door Your friends 011 moke me nervous You best keep 'em out of my store I don't moke no bones about it I don't need your barefoot blues I con damn sure do without it I keep a good shine on my shoes You've used up all your credit My patience all ran out And it'll lake two months of pay days To settle your account So get them fools up off my front step And get 'em out of here I don't need that kind of business Do I moke myself clear Don't think I don't know it You been stealin' me blind You thought I wouldn't notice Or you thought I wouldn't mind But you've run out of excuses Son you're wastin' my lime Get your face on out the front door Toke it down the line