It's Parker's band with a smooth style of syncopation.
Kansas born and growin', you won't believe what the boys are blowin'.

You got to come on, man, and take a piece of Mister Parker's band.

You'll be ridin' by bareback on your armadillo;
You'll be groovin' high or relaxin' at Camarillo.
Suddenly the music hits you; it's a bird in flight that just can't quit you.

You got to come on, man, and take a piece of Mister Parker's band.

We will spend a dizzy weekend smacked into a trance.
Me and you will listen to a little bit of what made the preacher dance.

Bring your horn along and you can add to the pure confection;
And if you can't fly you'll have to move in with the rhythm section.
Either way you're bound to function; Fifty-Second Street's the junction.

You got to come on, man, and take a piece of Mister Parker's,
Clap your hands and take a piece of Mister Parker's,
Come on, man, and take a piece of Mister Parker's band.

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