Throw Back The Little Ones

Lost in the Barrio I walk like an Injun, So Carlo won't suspect something's wrong here. I dance in place and paint my face And act like I belong here. Throw back the little ones and pan fry the big ones; Use tact, poise and reason and gently squeeze them. Hot licks and rhetoric don't count much for for nothing; Be glad if you can use what you borrow. So I pawn my crown for ride uptown And buy it back tomorrow. Done like a matador I pray for the weekend And hope the little girls still throw roses. Else I change my bait and move upstate Before the season closes.