Hey Jose, You Jose; cursing at the game
You're a discontented has-been, and a royal jerk also;
We've no doubt you dream about being in the Hall of Fame
But we wish someone would just talk to you
And just tell you to shut up. . .

Oh, you played in Oakland, and for Texas too, and you had balls bounce off your head,
Took a needle and stuck yourself, and your teammates too you've said
But you ran of places and friendly faces, and now you want to tell all
You've been to the World Series, but you'll never make the Hall.

Please Jose, please Jose, please just go away.
Cause we wish you hadn't done it, but we guess it helped you play
We remember your home runs hit four hundred feet and more
But your attitude, both back then and now, was just rotten to the core.

And now you've wrote a book but I won't look, no, not even at a single page
I'm sure your teammates from Oakland read it, and now they're full of rage
We know they liked it then when you came to bat, and you really could hit that baseball
You've been to the World Series, but you'll never make the Hall.

(spoken)
Hey, you know what is impossible?
It's your dream, a fantasy you have about being in the Hall
But you know what truth is?
It's the players you've ticked off, and it's the team mates you told all about
The same ones you needed back then
That's truth, that's life

Sometimes we get to thinking about why you did it and we can't say that we really know
But you took the cheap shot, and now it shows you're bitter from head to toe
You spend your days re-thinking the needle sticking, done down in the bathroom stall
Hey Jose,
You've been to the World Series, You've been to the World Series,
but you'll never make the Hall.