I was born in an East L.A. taco stand.
Coyotes howled in the night when I broke some wind.
Let it linger . . . Yeah, you might say it's crass.
Pull my finger . . . I'm Tootin' Jack Cass . . . Full o' gas-gas-gas.

I can raise up a roof with one sonic boom.
I can clear an entire conference room.
Feel the shear might ...Yeah, an atomic blast.
Such a delight . . . I'm Tootin' Jack Cass . . . Light my gas-gas-gas.

I was found by a crowd gathered 'cross the grass.
And reviled, they said, "Bubba, you've got no class."
I was bound, and they stripped off my Calvin Klein's, yes, yes,
I was found with a cork plugged in my behind, oh yeah,
But, I'm alright . . . Yeah, until I explode.
Yes, I'm alright . . . I'm Tootin' Jack Cass . . . It's a heavy load.

Tootin' Jack Cass . . . Shoot some gas.
Tootin' Jack Cass . . . He's so crass-crass-crass.
Tootin' Jack Cass . . . Whiff some gas.
Tootin' Jack Cass . . . Got no class-class-class.