by Jeff Barry
I tell you she's a heart breaker and you can't tell me she ain't,
There's a little devil in her under all that powder and paint,
And she can hang you up every night,
And get you so uptight,
She's 99 pounds, I say 99 pounds,
She's 99 pounds of some kind of dynamite.
I tell you half a ton of sugar ain't half as sweet as her,
She can change you, rearrange you till you don't remember what you were,
And it don't even pay to fight,
'Cause she don't know wrong from right,
She's 99 pounds, I said 99 pounds,
She's 99 pounds of some kind of dynamite.
 SOLO
And, well, she may look like an angel, but she's made out of T-N-T,
She's a little, bitty package of explosivity,
Yay, but when she holds you tight,
She's some kind of outtasight,
She's 99 pounds, I say 99 pounds,
I say 99 pounds of some kind of dynamite.
I say 99 pounds, I say 99 pounds,
62 inches, I say 99 pounds.