The lowly hero, who seldom spoke
The bottom end, of every joke
Four strings, zero respect
Got in too deep in retrospect

Ooo, ooo, ooo, I’m gonna stand up
Cuz treble’s too much trouble, and I think I’ve had enough

This bass player’s going solo
Going stag with my Jag
I’m sick of second fiddle cuz even second fiddle gets
more respect than me

Not everyone’s destined to be
a God like Lemmy, or Geddy Lee
It’s such a slap straight to the face
to ridicule the slightly larger mostly monophonic, picked or fingered, underrated catalyst for the decision that this bass player’s going solo

Gonna stick by my Rick
I’ve never laid my stubby digits on any other instrument
but bass is all I need
I would give Mr. Guitarist my letter of resignation
but I know that he can’t read

From this day forth, it’s my decision
to feel that jazz or rock precision
So beat it, drummers, you’re weak without me
You see what happens to those who doubt me?

Ooo, ooo, ooo, I have no regrets
I may be walking blind, but I’m a man without frets

This bass player’s going solo
Just you and me, EB3
You’ll dig my groovy tunes because I’m always in the pocket,
Or are you just happy to see me?
I’ll have my pick of all the ladies, cuz beggars can’t be choosers, baby
Who wouldn’t want to be me?