| When they kick at your front door
|
| How you gonna come?
|
| With your hands on your head
|
| Or on the trigger of your gun
|
| When the law break in How you gonna go?
|
| Shot down on the pavement
|
| Or waiting on death row
|
| You can crush us You can bruise us But you’ll have to answer to Oh, the guns of Brixton
|
| The money feels good
|
| And your life you like it well
|
| But surely your time will come
|
| As in heaven, as in hell
|
| You see, he feels like Ivan
|
| Born under the Brixton sun
|
| His game is called survivin'
|
| At the end of the harder they come
|
| You know it means no mercy
|
| They caught him with a gun
|
| No need for the Black Maria
|
| Goodbye to the Brixton sun
|
| You can crush us You can bruise us Yes, even shoot us But oh-the guns of Brixton
|
| When they kick at your front door
|
| How you gonna come?
|
| With your hands on your head
|
| Or on the trigger of your gun
|
| You can crush us You can bruise us Yeah, even shoot us But oh-the guns of Brixton
|
| Shot down on the pavement
|
| Waiting in death row
|
| His game is called survivin'
|
| As in heaven as in hell
|
| You can crush us You can bruise us But you’ll have to answer to Oh, the guns of Brixton |