His name is Joey, he goes to Boca,
He wears silk shirts when he's there,
Lotsa hairspray in his hair.
He rents Ferrari's,
With his father,
And while they're cruising in the car,
They're always looking near and far,
For a chick or two,
Perhaps a third one, too,
But if the car and the silks don't do it,
They hope the gold chains do...

Down in Boca, at the Club Boca,
The only spot Joey will go to,
Way down in Boca, at the Club Boca,
Start all your packin',
Put all your slacks in,
Look out Boca...
Joe's comin' down.

His name is Bubba, he is the bouncer,
Two hundred eighty pounds,
A grunt's his only sound,
He sees Joey,
And his father,
Pushing their way up to the door,
Annoying all who are before
Them on line,
They try this all the time,
Bubba wrinkles their shirts in the scuffle,
And Joey feels like cryin'...

Down in Boca, at the Club Boca,
The only spot Joey will go to,
Way down in Boca, at the Club Boca,
So much for pressin',
His shirt is a mess in
Down in Boca...
Joe's comin' home.

His name is Joey, he's back from Boca,
We will see him on the boat,
And we will listen to him gloat.
But will he tell us,
About his scuffle,
Or will he brag about the broads,
That he had 'em by the hordes.
Sure, but hey,
What will his girlfriend say?
Oh, he's been through this once before,
Just a typical day...

Back from Boca, from the Club Boca,
The only spot Joey will go to,
He's back from Boca, from the Club Boca,
Get ready for ears full,
A whole 'nother year's full,
About Boca...
Joe's finally home.