text:  The groove, I feel the beat. My mother starts to stutter. I see the heat. The fine, clean girl at the Beverly Center is looking real good in a tight-fitting sweater. The shiny material of her slacks are getting to me. Okay, relax. I drop a Jacksonville for the looker. She bends herself over like a high-class hooker. My face be restraining. I just can't stop. I'm a great market.