Croy Hates the Police
Mama, mama, mama
Look at your son
You used to love me
But now I’ve gotta gun

You better stay out of my way
I think I’ve had a bad day
I’ve had a bad day

Papa, papa, papa
Look at your son
I got me a good job
Killing blacks and mexicans
I’ll tell you something and it’s true
You can’t find justice, it’ll find you

Well people tell policemen
They’ve met their match
Out in those rust belt fields
Croy was hatched
Croy hates policemen and it’s true
You can’t find justice it’ll find you
Mama, mama, mama
Look at your son
You used to love me
But now I’ve got a gun
You better stay out of my way
Cuz I think I’ve had a bad day
I’ve had a bad day