I don’t wanna live in Yardyland
Every juvenile delinquent has a gun in his hand
I got a problem with my drugs
I can never, never, never, never, never get enough
Crossfire
I gotta pack, I gotta run
I can’t sit here like a smoking gun
So many geese is flying south
Like the lies from your mouth
Crossfire
There’s a sniper on the roof
Dogs are barking in the yard
There’s the sheriff up a tree
Hey, mr Policeman don’t shoot me
Crossfire
Crossfire