| County road 233, under my feet
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| Nothing on this white rock but little ol' me
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| I’ve got two miles 'till he makes bail
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| And if I’m right, we’re headed straight for hell
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| I’m going home, gonna load my shotgun
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| Wait by the door and light a cigarette
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| If he wants a fight, well, now he’s got one
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| And he ain’t seen me crazy yet
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| He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
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| Don’t that sound like a real man?
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| I’m gonna show him what little girls are made of
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| Gunpowder and lead
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| Well, it’s half past ten, another six-pack in
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| And I can feel the rumble like a cold black wind
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| He pulls in the drive, the gravel flies
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| He don’t know what’s waitin' here this time
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| Hey, I’m going home, gonna load my shotgun
|
| Wait by the door and light a cigarette
|
| If he wants a fight, well, now he’s got one
|
| And he ain’t seen me crazy yet
|
| He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
|
| Don’t that sound like a real man?
|
| I’m gonna show him what little girls are made of
|
| Gunpowder and lead
|
| His fist is big, but my gun’s bigger
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| He’ll find out when I pull the trigger
|
| I’m going home, gonna load my shotgun
|
| Wait by the door and light a cigarette
|
| If he wants a fight, well, now he’s got one
|
| And he ain’t seen me crazy yet
|
| He slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll
|
| Don’t that sound like a real man?
|
| I’m gonna show him what little girls are made of
|
| Gunpowder and, gunpowder and lead
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| Gunpowder and lead, yeah, yeah, hey |