Alright ladies and gentlemen, right now I’d like to take a moment to tell you
About a very important person in your family neighborhood.
Now, this person you get to know and love very well.
Without him, your Sunday mornings just wouldn’t be the same.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, the person who I am referring to happens to be your paper boy.
I wanna tell ya, I wanna tell ya’ ‘bout the paper boy.
My office hours start in the morning ‘bout five, I can’t be late.
Gotta be there when the printer’s truck drops the papers by the gate, yeah.
I got a lot of customers and responsibility, daily press from the editor’s desk
And I deliver it personally.

I’m the paper, paper boy.

Like Colonel Sanders’ recipe, I got a secret too:
I can wrap about twenty papers a minute, yeah, you know I do.
Hit the street, can’t stop to eat, I gotta make my route on time.
I got to keep on hustlin’ or I won’t make a dime.

I’m a poor boy, selling the daily news
I’m a rich, rich man.
Got a pocket full ‘a dimes,
Pocket full ‘a dimes.

Of all my business hazards, only one gives me a chill:
A St. Bernard on Cherry Street who I nickname Buffalo Bill.
They say that Bill is friendly and that he won’t hurt you none.
My head says play it cool but my feet tell me to run.

No, I don’t need no big fine car, got myself a better deal,
I run out the door with two on the floor – my Adidas foot-mobile.
I throw my papers with style and grace and believe me, that’s the truth.
If you don’t find it on your doorstep, try lookin’ on the roof.

I’m a poor boy … etc.