La-da-da-da
La-da-da-da
La-da-da-da-da-da (x3)
Coming from his quickly parked car the big cop
With the gun cocked behind his back
Walked slow and steady towards the kid with the corn rows
Who his boy had caught and dropped up against his Crown Royal
There are three other cop cars stopped
Abruptly blocking Kennedy Avenue
Their drivers, night sticks in hand, stand round
That corn-rowed kid
I drove on by, no I didn't want to take a bullet this time
I ran the red light, and not one cop looked
(You are what you wear
How can I fix this place?)
(Let me break it down for you)
Was this going to be an informal execution
Like South American police do every day
Take him behind a van in broad fucking daylight
While pedestrians looked away
Afraid that they might be next
La-da-da-da
La-da-da-da
La-da-da-da-da-da (x3)
Well the Wells Fargo wagon is a-comin down the street
Oh please let it be for me