It seems like only yesterday
My ball career went sour
A lifelong minor league prospect
Without a trace of power
Was six foot tall, weighed one forty-five
I looked so thin and sick
I sure enough could run and field
But couldn't swing the stick
Yet now I'm in the major leagues
And I'm just solid gold
I belted sixty-five home runs
At forty-one years old
I'm build like Arnold Schwarzenegger
Strong as defensive ends
And I'll tell you I owe it to
My laboratory friends

So shoot me full of the HGH
I'm hitting like a dream
And rub me down from toe to crown
With Barry Bonds's cream
I won't get into the Hall of Fame
But I've nothing to fear
Because right now I'm making
Sixty million bucks a year

I'm already feeling side effects
And not from crashing walls
'Though I'm no drunk my liver's shrunk
Like Caminiti's balls
But don't ask me to bury my head
Or hide my face in shame
I'm the only one I care about -
Who cares about the game!
So don't call me a role model
Just watch my clips and vids
And I am not responsible
For steroid use in kids
So don't presume to judge my case
Admire the way I hit
You fans and owners still cheer and pay
So who's the hypocrite!

Jose Canseco is still on the make-o
Roger The Rocket refuses to tell
Giambi's admitting and since then his hitting
Which once was fantastic has gone straight to hell
Raffy Palmeiro is not a straight arrow
Sosa, McGuire, and John Rocker's at risk
The Barry Bonds Ball will be sent to the Hall
As soon as it's marked with a big asterisk