| I got up at half-past four
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| Forty-four robbers around my door
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| Forty-four and maybe more
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| What the hell they want me for?
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| Stubbly faces, gap-tooth grin
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| Ain’t no way I’m letting them in
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| No way, you can’t come in, forty-four robbers stinking of gin
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| Uh-huh, I ain’t letting you in, I’ll hit you with a rolling pin
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| So small, can’t hurt a fly, get in my way and I’ll sure as hell try
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| To kick your butt down the block, can’t wait, yelling for the cops
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| Fifty dealers and fifty thieves
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| Starring at the drive-in on my street
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| Shit, over my shoulder there’s Popeye and Bluto
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| Looking nasty, can I remember my judo?
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| It’s always like this, going out alone
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| So damn scared, might never leave home
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| No way, you can’t come in, forty-four robbers stinking of gin
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| Uh-huh, I ain’t letting you in, I’ll hit you with a rolling pin
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| So small, can’t hurt a fly, get in my way and I’ll sure as hell try
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| To kick your butt down the block, can’t wait, yelling for the cops
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| Got my freedom, I got my pride
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| All means nothing with the men outside
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| Puffing and preening and strutting their stuff
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| Blocking my way out, I’ve had enough!
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| Give me justice, hand it over now
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| Gotta get a gun or maybe just leave town, see ya
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| Sly Stallone, Al Capone
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| Are giving me grief on the telephone
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| All I want is a swiss cheese sarnie
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| When at the deli stands Big Arnie
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| Hey Jean-Claude, move aside
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| That taxi’s mine, I’m taking that ride
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| When I go out to get the Sunday paper
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| What’s my man to think, «Someone might rape her»?
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| I’m just having a beer on my own
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| Don’t mean Hulk Hogan can take me home
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| I’ve got my mace but my loud-as-fuck whistle
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| Is so ineffective I just pray the epistles
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| For help to come someday soon
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| But until then I’ll stay in my room |