In the year seventeen seventy-six
Our fathers signed the Declaration of Independence
And we were so happy we could dance

In the year nineteen sixty-two
The Nationals arrived from Syracuse
They chased away the old Warriors
And renamed themselves the 76ers

In the year nineteen sixty-seven
They finally won a championship
By beating the San Francisco Warriors
Led by Wilt the Stilt, he was so hip

In the year nineteen seventy-three
The Sixers set a mark for futility
Many teams come close, but they can never match
That awful record of nine and seventy-three

In the year nineteen seventy-seven
Julius Erving soared straight to heaven
They rode him to the Finals, but they were losers
To the upstart Portland Trail Blazers

In the year nineteen eighty-three
Everybody in Philly went crazy
Cause they swept the previous winners
Of the Finals, the L.A. Lakers

In the year nineteen ninety-six
They had hit rock-bottom once again
So they got the first pick in the draft and said:
"Iverson is the Answer, he's our man"

In the year two-thousand and one
Iverson took them back to the championship round
But he soon found out, after five games
That the Lakers will always knock you back down

Now it is two thousand four, they're back to being poor
And Philly's most hated man is now Kobe motherf*cking Bryant
But somewhere in Philadelphia, the spirit is never out of the mix
Cause maybe in spite of myself, it is still the year '76...