Dancin' And Pantsin' Lyrics - What's Your Name? - Adam Sandler

When I was a young man 

I didn't like to dance, I was shy 

I'd stand against the wall all night 

I'd never take a chance, so afraid 

I wouldn't get on that dance floor 

Unless I was really drunk, 10 shots 

But I found a place where the stars hang out 

And they taught me how to funk 

Real nasty, it ain't too far away 

It's just on the edge of town, nearby 

But be ready when you get there 

'Cause these folks don't fuck around 

You can, rub your belly with Liza Minelli 

Covered in jelly, you're gonna rub your belly 

Jiggle your droopy balls with singin' Lou Rawis 

Bounce off the walls, then jiggle them droopy balls 

Grind your hips with the blond guy from CHIPS 

Lick your lips 

Stroke it clean with Martin Sheen 

It's fucking obscene 

Clench your ass-cheeks tight 

With sexy grandma Betty White 

You'll see the light when your sphincter's tight 

If you don't know how to move 

Just feel the groove 

And dance, like you just shit your pants 

Spin like a little girl 

With cross-dressing Milton Berle 

Just give it a whirl 

Pretend you're a little girl 

Wave that juicy weeno with legendary Al Pacino 

Wave your weeno, even more obsceno 

Knock back a drink with Colonel Klink 

Piss in the sink 

Bounce your beef with Omar Sharif 

What a relief 

Ring the disco bell with ice cream wizard Tommy Carvel 

Tommy Carvel gonna make your dink swell 

Then spew all over the room 

With Mr. Jeffery Goldblum 

And dance, like you just shit your pants 

Mr. Belvedere, fatty, fatty 

Finger in his own rear 

Bernard King, basketball, basketball 

Showing off his ding-a-ling 

Swimming Mark Spitz 

Mustache, mustache 

Playing with his hairy tits 

Big Earl Weaver, Tommy Seaver 

Both of them got the boogie fever 

You can, do the hustle with seven-footer Billy Russell 

Do the fucking hustle, jerking your love muscle 

Shake your big, round ass with the ghost of Mama Cass 

Blast from the past, the ghost of Mama Cass 

Dry-hump the floor with Mary Tyler-Moore 

Pump it sore 

Squeeze your nipple like baldy Mr. Whipple 

Drink some Ripple 

Give it a hearty whack 

With TV great Victor Tayback 

When you give it a whack 

Don't hurt the nut-sack 

So if the thought of grooving is bringing you down 

Come to the funkiest place in town 

The stars will show you how to move 

And dance, like you just shit your pants