You start your print press up,
You put print plate down,
You make some brand new bills,
And you hang them to dry out.
You make the hokey money,
and you spend it all around.
It's gonna turn about.

You start your lemon up,
You try to leave the town,
You hear the sirens blaring,
And they catch you peeling out.
You made the hokey money,
and you spent it all around.
It's gonna turn about.

You lean against the car,
You spread your arms right out,
They throw your butt in jail,
And no one can bail you out,
You made the hokey money,
and you spent it all around.
It's gonna turn about.

You hear your case come up,
You see the jury frown,
Your verdict has been read,
And you hear the gavel pound.
You made the hokey money,
and you spent it all around.
It's gonna turn about.

You see your prison cell,
You begin to pout,
You're convicted of the crime,
And in 30 you'll be out.
You made the hokey money,
and you spent it all around.
This is your turn about.