See, I'm hip. I'm no square.
I'm alert, I'm awake, I'm aware.
I am always on the scene.
Making the rounds, digging the sounds.
I read People Magazine.
'Cuz I'm hip.
Like, dig! I'm in step.
When it was hip to be hep, I was hep.
I don't blow but I'm a fan.
Look at me swing. Ring a ding-ding.
I even call my girlfriend "man," 'cuz I'm hip.
Every Saturday night with my suit buttoned tight and my suedes on
I'm getting my kicks digging arty French flicks with my shades on.
I'm too much. I'm a gas.
I am anything but middle cla*s.
When I hang around the band,
Popping my thumbs, digging the drums,
Squares don't seem to understand
Why I flip. They're not hip like I'm hip.
I'm on top of every trend.
Look at me go. Vo-dee-o-do.
Sammy Davis knew my friend.
I'm hip, but not weird.
Like, you notice, I don't wear a beard.
Beards were in but now they're out.
They had they're day. Now they're pa*sé.
Just ask me if you're in doubt, 'cuz I'm hip.
Now I'm deep into Zen meditation and macrobiotics,
And as soon as I can I intend to get into narcotics.
'Cuz I'm cool as a cuke.
I'm a cat, I'm a card, I'm a kook, kook, kook.
I get so much out of life.
Really, I do. Skoo ba dee boo.
One more time play "Mack the Knife."
Let 'er rip. I may flip, but I'm hip.