Women are sweet, and girls are honey,
but beat your meat and save your money.
(chorus)
I'm an auto-manipulator.
I play with myself.
I'm a masturbator.
I strut on by the corner whore,
and walk in to the liquor store.
The slick pages of the magazine
are accompained by Vaseline.
The lubrication is for masturbation.
It's high time for a celebration.
(chorus)
I'm feeling proud of my slab of meat.
I get into the groove.
I feel the beat.
I'm up against the porcelain of the sink.
Things are getting funny.
I start to blink.
My mother comes, she says "Are you asleep?"
I freeze. I don't utter a single peep.
I'm an auto-manipulator. I play with myself.
I'm a cool operator.
I get back into the groove.
I feel the beat.
My mind starts to stutter. I feel the heat.
A fine clean girl at the Beverly Center,
is looking real good in her tight fit sweater.
The shiny material of her slacks
is getting to me (O.K., relax.)
(chorus)
I drop a Jackson bill for the looker.
She bends herself over like a high class hooker.
My face is straining, I just can't stop.
I'm gritting my teeth,
I'm ready to pop.
(chorus)
I look into the ceiling.
I see what I know.
That feeling is reeling.
I think there's a glow.
I see everything so clear.
I don't really know what I'm doing here.
I close the bathroom door I am looking so cool.
My mama don't know I've been touching my tool.
I'm an auto-manipulator.
(chorus)
I'm so happy that I'm a man,
'cause I've got the whole world in my hands
