Oil up your shotgun for the time of your life
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And tell the wife that you won't be home tonight
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Lock up your daughters in the hickory shack
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And jump in the back of my pick-up truck, all right
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We're gonna go downtown where the action is
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We're gonna plug a couple nigger-lovin' communists
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We're never ever ever gonna hear from them again
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And it's open season, so open fire!
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We got shit for brains and guns for hire!
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It's a dirty job, but that's the price you have to pay
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Here in Lynchtown
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Lynchtown, USA!
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Call up my uncle, he's the chief of police,
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The justice of peace, and the circuit judge besides
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We'll round up a couple of the good ol' boys
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We gotta make some noise, but let's leave our hoods behind
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We gotta show these long-hairs where it's at
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With burning crosses and baseball bats
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And they'll never ever be seen or heard again
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And in Lynchtown, nobody ever sings
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They don't know where they were or know what they did
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So it's the easiest thing
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And it's open season, so open fire!
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We got shit for brains and guns for fire!
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It's a dirty job, but that's the price you have to pay
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Here in Lynchtown
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Lynchtown, USA!
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Lynchtown U.S.A.
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Sloppy Seconds |