I'm goin' down south 'Neath the borderline I'm goin' down south 'Neath the borderline Some fat momma Kissed my mouth one time Well, I needed it this morning Without a shadow of doubt My suitcase is packed My clothes are hangin' out San Francisco's fine You sure get lots of sun San Francisco is fine You sure get lots of sun But I'm used to four seasons California's got but one Well, I got my dark sunglasses I got for good luck my black tooth I got my dark sunglasses And for good luck I got my black tooth Don't ask me nothin' about nothin' I just might tell you the truth