| He set up on the low-ride, slinging nickels and dimes
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| He a bad man, old Stagolee
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| It was Stagolee shot Jimmy, oh, little Jimmy Brown
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| At the Roadway Motel, gunned that boy down
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| He a bad man, old Stagolee
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| You see, Jimmy loved a girl, a little girl named Valentine
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| They grew up on the hill, there in the low-rides
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| Next door to old Stagolee
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| But Jimmy grew up in the bottoms, boy, and everybody knows
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| That folks from the bottoms and the hill don’t get along
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| No one much liked Stagolee
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| So the folks down in the bottoms said, «Boy, don’t get yourself killed
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| Ain’t there plenty girls down here? |
| Why chase one up the hill?
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| You watch out for old Stagolee.»
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| But Jimmy said, «Come on, don’t give me none of that shit
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| You know little Jimmy Brown ain’t afraid of no son of a bitch
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| Oh, not even Stagolee.»
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| One night, Jimmy shootin' dice, down at the Roadways
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| Outside Room 22, down the breezeway
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| And up walked old Stagolee
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| But Jimmy shootin' fire, throwin' seven in the air
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| Eleven, eleven, oh seven, come again
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| So he never saw old Stagolee
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| I wasn’t there, but I did hear the shots
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| And by the time I arrived, the place was crawling with cops
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| Though I did see old Stagolee
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| Out in back of the motel, all alone in his car
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| Went around the turnpike, sneaked past the graveyard
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| Aw, that goddamn Stagolee
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| So I stayed out of sight till he rolled away
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| I don’t need nobody thinkin' that I saw a thing
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| Aw, especially not Stagolee
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| One shot fired, and one man dead
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| Was no fightin', not one word said
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| Yeah, he’s a bad man, Stagolee
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| So this story done been told
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| Time and time again
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| Same old means, same old end
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| Same old Stagolee |