| Think I’m gonna call the 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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| Prob’ly 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 I was born
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| I’ve seen good times come and go and 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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| Every year or so I see a new truck load of white trash movin' in
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| When I was sixteen I had a little trouble with the law
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| He said «Boy come here,» I said «Boy yourself, I ain’t done nothing wrong»
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| Grabbed me by the arm and he went upside my head
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| Nobody saw nothing, but 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 'em both goin' 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 headin' out my back door
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| And I’m proud to say I ain’t never been no violent man
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| But I’d sure be rottin' in jail today if I’d had me a gun in my hand
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| I went inside and threw her clothes on the floor and laid a suitcase across the
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| bed
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| Not a word got spoke, not a lick got throwed, and my woman ain’t come back yet
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| Now I live in this building with these punks and freaks
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| And I don’t do much of nothing, 'cept go to work and come home and drink
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| So guitar man upstairs, you done picked the wrong damn place to stay
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| I’m just a feeble old man, you a young smart-ass, and there’s a law-man on his
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| way |