Coming home Working late Driving tired Asked me where I was going then said I was lying What could I do? From the big bad boys in blue Pulled me real close and then told me
Put your hands up High in the air Or we’ll shoot You right in ya head Don’t speak Not a sound You’ll be Dead (dead, dead, dead) in the ground
On the hood Face smashed up like a rat Called for backup, who knows when he’ll attack One word, threw me right to the floor He said, “Don't make me tell you again, boy” Don't make me tell you again
Put your hands up High in the air Or we’ll shoot You right in ya head Don’t speak Not a sound You’ll be Dead (dead, dead, dead) in the ground
Dead in the ground Dead in the ground
Murderers You’re all a bunch of murderers MurderersTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
