IF YOU’VE GOT THE MONEY, BEARS HAVE GOT THE RHYME

NEW ORLEANS — “OK. OK. Quiet in the studio. Bears, are you ready? This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. The follow-up to the ‘Super Bowl Shuffle.’ Do it right and it could be a gold record — not to mention huge video sales. Big bucks, fellas. It’ll be great. OK. Mr. Perry, try not to drool quite so much this time. And Mr. Fuller, don’t dance. Just, uh, sort of stand there, OK? Remember, guys, let’s sing on the beat, not in between it. All right. Is everybody ready?”

“YEAH! . . . Of course! . . . DO IT! . . . I’m hungry . . . WOOO! . . . Where’s the broads?”

“OK. Cue the drums, Mort. Places, everybody. Ah-one, ah-two, ah-three, ah-four. . . . ” WE ARE THE BEARS, SHUFFLIN’ CREW, DID YOU MISS US? WE’RE BACK FOR TWO. WE’RE SO BAD WE KNOW WE’RE GOOD, GONNA BE RICH, LIKE WE KNEW WE WOULD. WE’RE NOT HERE TO DO SOMETHING FUNNY WE’RE JUST HERE FOR SUPER BOWL MONEY
“They call me Sweetness, I like to dance, I wanted to score but I never got a chance, They gave it to the fat man, instead of me, I got the bruises, he got the TD, Won’t get mad, or knock over a fountain, I’ll just go home and run up a mountain.”
“I’m the rockin’ QB, my name’s McMahon, Super Bowl’s over now here’s my plan, I’m gonna have pizza with Pete Rozelle, He and me got some headbands to sell, Then maybe I’ll go, and shave my head Drink some beers, wind up under the bed, Chew some tobacco, shoot off a gun, Do ‘Rolling Stone’ then become a nun.” WE ARE THE BEARS, WE WON, WE OUGHTATHAT WAS NO GAME, THAT WAS SLAUGHTA,WE’RE NOT HERE, TO DO NOTHING RASH,WE’RE JUST HERE FOR SUPER BOWL CASH,PAY-UP
(drums) ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba
“Ditka’s the name, Coach for short, You don’t like it I’ll take off your nose, Everything I do, I credit George Halas, He taught me coaching, and poetry, too, Some say I’m mean, some say stupid, but I bet I can make this rhyme. . . . uh –” WE ARE THE BEARS, SHUFFLIN’ CREW, COME TO COLLECT OUR SUPER BOWL DUE WE ATE ‘EM UP, THAT’S WHAT IT’S ABOUT, TASTED LIKE CHOWDER, WE SPIT ‘EM OUT WE’RE NOT HERE, TO PUT ON A SHOW WE’RE JUST HERE FOR SUPER BOWL DOUGH.
“Sackman’s comin’, his name is Dent, Now it’s the Bears who’re gonna get bent, They coulda signed me, for 300 grand Now they can come and kiss my hand, Maybe a million? Maybe two? I’m the MVP, what’s it worth to you? I’m not here, to dig some ditch I’m just here to get Super Bowl rich.”
“Willie Gault, number 83 Lippett and Tippett now bow to me That’s why I’m quitting, as Bears’ receiver, To realize my dream as host of “Dance Fever.’ ” WE ARE THE BEARS, 46-10, YOU DON’T BELIEVE IT WE’LL DO IT AGAIN, WOULDN’T BE PRETTY, WOULDN’T BE NICE, YOU’D HAVE TO SIT THRU HALFTIME TWICE WE’RE NOT HERE, HUNTIN’ FOR DUCKS, WE’RE JUST HERE FOR SUPER BOWL BUCKS
“Fencik here, I went to Yale, Biff and Dougie flew in from Vail, Muffy and Missy gave me two big kisses, Beating Harvard was never like this is, We crushed the Pats by more than thirty, I didn’t even get my uniform dirty, I’m not here, looking for a block, I’m just here for my Super Bowl stock.”
“My name’s Eason, you don’t know me, Folks in New England used to call me Tony, But after Sunday they sold my home, Took my dog, disconnected my phone, Can I join you, in any form? Carry your helmets? Clean your dorm?” WE ARE THE BEARS, THE ONLY ONES,

THROW THIS GUY OUT ON HIS BUNS!
“They call me Fridge, I’m the rookie, I may be fat but I’m no dumb cookie, I scored a touchdown, that was the plan, Then I knocked out my own man, I’m tired of jokes about my weight, Next year I’m gonna weigh 408, I’m not here looking for the green stuff, I just came for those vanilla cream puffs –”
“Buddy here, last name’s Ryan, Folks think a head coach’s job I’m eyein’, Is it true? I really wouldn’t know,
(dial 999-8760).” WE ARE THE BEARS, CALL MTV, GOODBY SPRINGSTEEN AND SHEILA E. VIDEO STARDOM HAS OUR VOTE, SHOVE THIS RECORD DOWN THEIR THROAT WE’RE THE BEST, HEAD OF THE CLASS, ALL YOU PATS CAN KISS OUR . . . RINGS!

“OK. Cut. Cut. That’s a wrap, fellas. Thanks.”

“GREAT! . . . Nice job . . . Hey, man, you sounded awful . . . LET’S EAT! .
. . Who sounded awful? . . . Get off my foot, pea-brain . . . WOOO! . . . Where’s the broads?”

“Hey, yo! Mister producer!”

“Yes, Mr. Perry?”

“What’re we calling this thing, anyway?”

“We’re going to re-create an old dance craze, Mr. Perry. We’re calling it The Hustle.”

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