The Uplift Mofo Party Plan Album

Artist(s): Red Hot Chili Peppers

Cover Art

Red Hot Chili Peppers The Uplift Mofo Party Plan Cover Art

Tracklist

Fight Like a Brave

length: 3:54
producer: Michael Beinhorn
lead vocals: Anthony Kiedis
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
bass: Flea
guitar: Hillel Slovak
drums (drum set): Jack Irons
assistant mixer: Russel Bracher and Stan Katayama
writer: Anthony Kiedis, Michael Peter Balzary, Hillel Slovak, Jack Irons

All you slingers and fiends
Hide behind your rocks
Put down your guard
I'm not here to box
This is no showdown
So throw down your guns
You see it doesn't matter
Where you come from
You could be from park ave
Or from a park bench
You could be a politician
Or a *****y princess
But if you're lookin' for a fist
And you're lookin' to unite
Put your knuckleheads together
Make a fist and fight
Not to your death
And not to your grave
I'm talking about t hat freedom
Fight like a brave

Fight like a brave
Don't be a slave
No one can tell you
You've got to be afraid

If you're sick-a-sick'n'tired
Of being sick and tired
If you're sick of all the bullshit
And you're sick of all the lies
It's better late than never
To set-a-set it straight
You know the lie is dead
So give your self a break
Get it through your head
Get if off your chest
Get it out your arm
Because it's time to start fresh
You want to stop dying
The life you could be livin'
I'm here to tell a story
But I'm also here to listen
No I'm not your preacher
And I'm not your physician
I'm just trying to reach you
I'm a rebel with a mission

Fight like a brave
Don't be a slave
No one can tell you
You've got to be afraid

Fight like a brave
Don't be a slave
No one can tell you
You've got to be afraid

I'm here today to pump up the uplift mofo party plan
A plan based on a band, a band based on a plan
There should be no...in the land of lands
It's a Hollywood jam

You say you're running and you're running
And you're running afraid
You say you ran across the planet
But you couldn't get away
The fire in your brain
Was driving you insane
You were looking for a day
In a life that never came
So don't tell me that
I've got to take a number
Cause I've been to that doctor
And believe me that's a bummer
Here's a one of a kind
Convention of the mind
And don't forget to mention
That it doesn't cost a dime
Come as you like
And leave any time
And one more thing
You know it doesn't have to rhyme

Fight like a brave
Don't be a slave
No one can tell you
You've got to be afraid...

Funky Crime

length: 3:01
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Stan Katayama and Russel Bracher
writer: Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak
Why do you do what you do
I do what I want to do
Who said you could do what you do
I told you who told me to
I do what I want to do
I do what I want to do

Funky crime funky crime
Don't you know funk's colors blind
Well I've committed a funky crime
Against a state of mind

Hey you mister interview
I don't have to answer you
This is what I grew into
Don't judge me and my soul stew
Cause funk is my attitude
Funk is my attitude

Funky crime funky crime
Don't you know funk's colors blind
Well I've committed a funky crime
Against a state of mind

Barriers of race
In the media take place
Tellin' you there is no room
For what you do, don't budge
There's no groove to your gloom
Who made you the judge
Always room for funky tunes
And yes I funk it up

Funky boy
Meets a funky girl
Make it funky, baby
Cause the funk is crazy

Why do you do what you do
I do what I want to do
Who said you could do what you do
I told you who told me to
I do what I want to do
I do what I want to do

Funky crime funky crime
Don't you know funk's colors blind
Well I've committed a funky crime
Against a state of mind

Funky crime
Funky crime
Funky funky crime
The crime is funky

Me and My Friends

length: 3:10
producer: Michael Beinhorn
membranophone: Jack Irons
lead vocals: Anthony Kiedis
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
bass: Flea
guitar: Hillel Slovak
assistant mixer: Russel Bracher and Stan Katayama
writer: Anthony Kiedis, Michael Peter Balzary, Hillel Slovak, Jack Irons
Me and my, me and my, me and my,
Me and my, me and my friends

Like two sweet peas
In an even sweeter pod
That's my friend
And my friend's named Bob
Like the devil knows hell
I know Bob well
Well enough to tell you
'Bout his '67 smells
Well enough to tell you
He's a hell-a-swell fellow
Well enough to tell you
That we know each other better
Than we know our selves
Like freaks of a feather
We rock together
I know Bob well
But I think he knows me better

Me and my, me and my, me and my,
Me and my, me and my friends

He's as close to me
As a friend can be
I'll be standin' by my buddy
He'll be standin' by me
Just another half of
The two headed freak
But I need him like
My heart needs to beat
At this point
In this friendly verse
I've got to sing a little something
That I haven't rehearsed
It's about my man
And his name is Hillel
For who my love
Is soul brother sacred
Take it huckleberry
Slim boy take it

Me and my, me and my, me and my,
Me and my, me and my friends

Jacky's eyes are closed
But he's right on course
Because he's guided by
The invisible force
He drives a kooky green Chrysler
Bad as anybody's Porsche
He's a working class drummer
He's as strong as a horse

Me and my, me and my, me and my,
Me and my, me and my friends

Backwoods

length: 3:08
producer: Michael Beinhorn
membranophone: Jack Irons
lead vocals: Anthony Kiedis
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
bass: Flea
guitar: Hillel Slovak
assistant mixer: Stan Katayama and Russel Bracher
writer: Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak
Someone spilled blood many years ago
Someone spilled blood but do you know
That from the backwoods
Where the Chuck Berry's grow
Come your long tall
Daddies of a rock and roll

Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now

Spinning' down from the clouds
Like a tornado
Spinnin' out of control
Like a psychedelic soul
With a rhythm hittin' harder
Than Larry Holmes
Come your long tall
Daddies of rock and roll

Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now

Mr. Uplift Mofo - my man Bo Diddley
Hit sippin' a bottle of nickle ripple
Play the lickity split finger licking licks
For all you wicked city slick chicks

And all you nitty gritty hick
We'll make your nipples ripple
Make you wanna dip your dipple
Make you wanna soak your hickory stick
Because my man has a grip on it
And I do mean on it
Which brings to mind
A very sinister minister kind of guy
A man named Little Richard
Born to make them *****es stir
That's right he'll make the sweet substance drip
From the middle of your hillbilly lips
And like the farmer milk his cow
The Howling Wolf will howl
And since times does allow
You all can

Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now
Take me to your backwoods now

Skinny Sweaty Man

length: 1:17
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Stan Katayama and Russel Bracher
writer: Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak
Flashin' lots of cash and spendin' lots-o-loot
He's sitting at the bar - then he's sittin' at the booth
Across the dance floor he does scoot
He's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit

The caboose that could he goes toot toot
Been known to gag and sometimes puke
A very good friend of granny goose
He's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit

Skinny sweaty man in the green suit
He's half man and half cartoon
But good buddy don't be confused
He's full blooded looney tune

He's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
Face to face with the man in the moon
His family doctor is doctor seuss
If you catch him in your soup please don't shoot

He's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
Skinny sweaty man in the green suit
He was new in town
A free wheelin' clown

A funny young duke
Hangin' under the roof
Of a place in time
United sound

He'll play a little guitar sing a few blues
He's the kind-a-guy that you can't refuse
Despite the fact that he's no brute
He's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit

Strike the magic groove make him jerk and move
Like an eight legged freak in snake skin boots
Coming soon to a theater near you
He's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit

Behind the Sun

length: 4:42
producer: Michael Beinhorn
membranophone: Jack Irons
lead vocals: Anthony Kiedis
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
bass: Flea
guitar: Hillel Slovak
assistant mixer: Russel Bracher and Stan Katayama
writer: Anthony Kiedis, Michael Peter Balzary, Hillel Slovak, Jack Irons, Michael Beinhorn
One day while bathing in the sea
My talking dolphin spoke to me
He spoke to me in symphony
From freedom's peace beneath the sea
He looked to me eyes full of love
Said yes we live behind the sun

Behind the sun

The sun goes up
And the sun gets down
But like the heart of the sun
My heart continues to pound

Now while I shower in the rain
I watch my dolphin swim away
The one who listens to the surf
Can feel the pulse beat of the earth
And like my dolphin swims so free
The sun does swim into the sea

Behind the sun

An island flying through the sky
One day your son might ask you why
And if you son should be a girl
She too might ask you of this world
The sun shines sweet upon your beach
And yes my dolphin loves to teach

Behind the sun

The sun goes up
And the sun gets down
But like the heart of the sun
My heart continues to pound

Subterranean Homesick Blues

length: 2:35
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Stan Katayama and Russel Bracher
composer: Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan
lyricist: Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan
Johnny's in the basement mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat, badge out, laid off,
Says he's got a bad cough: wants to get it paid off
God knows when but you're doin' it again!
You better duck down the alleyway lookin'for a new friend
The man in the coonskin cap by the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills: you only got ten
Look out, kid
Look out, kid, it's somethin' that you did
Look out, kid, 'cause they keep all hid
Maggie comes fleet foot, face full of black soot
Talkin' at the heat put plants in the bed but
The phone's tapped anyway, Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early may
Orders from the D.A.
Walk on your tip toes, don't try "no doz"
Better stay away from those that carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose, watch the plain clothes
You don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows
Look out, kid
Look out, kid, it's somethin' that you did
Look out, kid, 'cause they keep all hid
Looks to me like you did
A little to much hittin' kid
You should've took it to the bridge
Before you started to skid
Look out, kid
The good god willin', we'll bebop to Bob Dylan
Chillin' 'em, thrillin' 'em, and red hot killin' 'em
Killin' 'em
Get sick, get well, hand around a ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell if anything is goin' to sell
Try hard, get barred, get back, write braille
Get jailed, jump bail, join the army, if you fail
But users, cheaters, six time losers
Hand around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool lookin' for a new fool
Don't follow leaders, watch the parkin' meters
Look out, kid
Look out, kid, it's somethin' that you did
Look out, kid, 'cause they keep all hid

Special Secret Song Inside

length: 3:17
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Russel Bracher and Stan Katayama
writer: Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak, Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak
Well, my young lady, she lives
Three houses away

She claims that she can hear moaning and screaming
To me ****in' you every night
Well, let me say "hey"

I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on, party on your *****
I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on your *****, yeah, yeah, yeah
Struck by lust in a telephone booth
Busted by a cop, he said "That's uncool"

He said that he hears moaning and screaming
To me ****in' you every night
Well, let me say "hey"

I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on, party on your *****
I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on your *****, yeah, yeah, yeah
I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on your *****
I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on your *****
I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on your *****
I want to party on your little *****, girl
I want to party on your *****

Let me shine your diamond
The girl got a scratch
Slap that cat
Have mercy

I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on, party on your *****
I want to party on your *****, baby
I want to party on your *****, yeah, yeah, yeah

No Chump Love Sucker

length: 2:43
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Stan Katayama and Russel Bracher
writer: Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak
She's a witch
A bonafide bore
What's more - she snores
And that is a fact
Cow eyes lie
Yes it's time to resist
How did I ever
Get into this
How could I ever
Have kissed that *****
So what if she's
Got big ****

She's the kinda girl
Who changes her mind really quick
She's the kinda girl who
Won't just let things sit

She came like a cat
Like a cat to cat nap
She came in my lap
With her womanly hips
When I first met her
I came unglued
I played the part of
A blue blooded fool
I'm through with your sewage
I'm through with your trash
I always knew that I'd
Get the last laugh

She's the kinda girl
Who changes her mind really quick
She's the kinda girl who
Won't just let things sit

Like two trains on one track
Bound for a crash
Two red white and blues we were
Destined to clash
I can't fix the future
I can't change the past
Like fly by night news
We were not meant to last
I'm through with your bluefish
I'm through with your gash
I'm through being screwed with by
You and your wack attack

Jump back for chump love
You won't be back for cover
But no no no no
I'm no chump love sucker
No chump love sucker

No chump love sucker

I thought that your love
Was a matter of fact
But I lost my pride
When I realized that
The smack in my bag
And my baseball bat
Was all you were after
Boys "you dirty rat"
She's a ***** and a brat
And a living disaster
She thought she was fast
But I was faster

Walkin’ on Down the Road

length: 3:50
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Russel Bracher and Stan Katayama
writer: Cliff Martinez, Flea, Hillel Slovak, Anthony Kiedis, Jack Irons
Well I'm walking on down the road
But it can't be heaven
'cause the streets aren't gold
And everybody knows what bobby d was told
I'm walkin' on down the road
Groovin' a tune straight out of the womb
Trust is a must to be a true blue dude
That's a matter of fact don't be confused

Everybody knows true friends are few
Everybody come in, everybody sing, sing my song
Everybody knows, everybody things, that I've done wrong
Everybody come in, everybody sing, sing my song

Well I'm walking on down the road
But it can't be heaven
'cause the streets aren't gold
And everybody knows what bobby d was told
I'm walkin' on down the road
A like a momma bear hugs her baby bear cubs
A dude he can't lose when he lives on love

Like the bark on a tree
Like the skin on my knees
I'm standin' by my blood

Everybody come in, everybody sing, sing my song
Everybody knows, everybody things, that I've done wrong
Everybody come in, everybody sing, sing my song

Well I'm walking on down the road
But it can't be heaven
'cause the streets aren't gold
And everybody knows what bobby d was told
I'm walkin' on down the road

Love Trilogy

length: 2:42
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Stan Katayama and Russel Bracher
writer: Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak
My love comes, and when it does
It's a crazy kind of
Selective affection
My love flows like a wise guy's tie
In the zanniest of directions
My love protection, my love erection
You better get some of my infection
My love can be-a-bigger than
The hoover dam
My love can hide behind
A grain of sand
My love for life is fueled by
The love for my man
I love his mother and
The silly mystic man
Some people think he's bad
They say he doesn't laugh
And ask my dad

My love is death to apartheid rule
My love is deepest depth, the ocean blues

My love is the Zulu groove
My love is keep it or move
My love is a laughin' boozed
My love is the ***** juice
My love can't be refused
My love is gettin' my food
My love, my love

My love began from love
My love for an unknown grubby bum
My love for the baby suckin' on his thumb
My love for the best set of buns
My love for the feel of the drums
My love for a butter knuckle hands
My love for the swedes in the bad
My love for the legs that I spin
My love for the fat mingy
My love, my love
My love is my gross inner self
My love is my **** in my head
My love is my gross inner self
My love is my **** in my head

Organic Anti‐Beat Box Band

length: 4:02
producer: Michael Beinhorn
mixer: John Potoker
engineer: James Bauerlein
recording engineer: Judy Clapp
assistant mixer: Stan Katayama and Russel Bracher
writer: Flea, Jack Irons, Anthony Kiedis, Hillel Slovak
Oh yeah!
Can you dig it, can you dig it
Welcome friends to my thoughts of when
The 'Fax City Four' were four young men

Time has come, now we jam
With the uplift mofo party plan
We're the organic anti-beat box band
One comes from the holy land
Another was born an Australian

Me I'm from Michigan
But Hollywood is the land of lands
It's a Hollywood jam
We represent the Hollywood kids
Hollywood is where we live
We represent the Hollywood kids
Organic anti-beat box band

Life is grand in the land of lands
The mind does boggle the mind expands
The anarchy for have manned their craft
Get on your knees and shake your ***

To the jam that is
We don't ask we demand
That you and your clan
Listen now to this jam
To the power of the drummers bad

It's a Hollywood jam
We represent the Hollywood kids
Hollywood is where we live
We represent the Hollywood kids
Organic anti-beat box band
There's a party in my town at 12:00
There's a party that's rockin' down to the rock

I've got nothin' against hip hop
But there's a party in my town
And no beat box jam that is
The party's got girls the girls got hot
The party's got boys and the boys got socks
Something popped the doors unlocked
House got up ran around the block

Sit down house
Take off your blouse
We represent the Hollywood kids
Hollywood is where we live
Any good friend of the lollipop kids
Over the rainbow with the wiz
We represent the Hollywood kids

Organic anti-beat box band
With the organic anti-beat box band
You just might slam dance that is
It's a Hollywood jam!