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I think I'm gonna call the |
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Police, I hear something upstairs |
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I know good and well there ain't nothing good going on up there |
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There's probably ten or more of them sittin' all around |
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Smokin' that stuff and drinkin' that hard liquor down |
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I've been living in this city since the day |
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I was born |
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I've seen good times come and go and |
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I've seen bad times drag on |
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I've seen white and black folks alike get treated just like sin |
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And every year or so |
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I see a new truck load of white trash movin' in |
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When I was sixteen |
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I had a little trouble with the law |
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He said "Boy come here" |
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I said "Boy yourselfI ain't done nothing wrong" |
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He grabbed me by the arm and |
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He went upside my head |
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Nobody saw nothing |
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B ut I got a little spot where my hair ain't grown back yet |
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I used to have me a woman and a pretty fine home |
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But it took so much to keep them both going |
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I was always out and gone |
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I came home one afternoon to get me change of clothes |
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Caught a quick walkin' slick talkin' guitar picker |
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Headin' out my back door |
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Now I'm proud to say |
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I ain't never been no violent man |
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But I'd sure be rotting in jail today if |
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I'd had me a gun in my hand |
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I went inside threw her clothes on the floor and laid a suitcase across the bed |
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Not a word got spoke not a lick got throwed |
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And my woman ain't come back yet |
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Now I live in this building with the punks and the freaks |
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And I don't do much of nothing except go to work, come home, and drink |
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So guitar man you done picked the wrong damn place to stay |
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I'm a feeble old man |
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You're a young smart-ass |
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And there's a law-man on his way |