Some folks are born made to wave the flag.

Ooh, they’re red, white and blue.

selves, now.

And when the band plays “Hail To The Chief,”

ooh, they point the can non at you, (G5)sale, Lord.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

I ain’t no sen a tor’s y son, son, son.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

I ain’t no for tu nate one, no.

no, no.

Some folks are born sil ver spoon in hand.

Lord, don’t they help them blue.

selves, now.

And when the tax man comes to the door,

Lord, the house looks like a rum mage (G5)sale, yeah.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

I ain’t no mil lion aire’s y son, son, son.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

I ain’t no for tu nate one, no.

no, no.

Yeah, some folks in her it star span gled eyes.

Ooh, they send you down to war.

And when you ask ’em, “How much should we give?”

Ooh, they on ly an swer, “More, more, more, more.” It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

I ain’t no for tu nate one, one, one.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

I ain’t no for tu nate son, son, son.

I ain’t no for tu nate son.

I ain’t no for tu nate son, son.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.

It ain’t me.