He's got the money and the gun
And the money and the gun
And the money and the gun
Pull the trigger
♪
He's got the money and the gun
And the money and the gun
And the money and the gun
Pull the trigger
♪
He doesn't drive unless he's drunk
Hardly even talks
Words bleached his feathers
Cult sycophantic killed his son
Harvests better crop
Can't open his jaw
I'm covered in white
And I'm reading my lines
The whispers turn grey
Till I have nothing to say
Before I was a communist I was a fascist pacifist
An anarchist on the wrist next in line
Hey hey hey hey
♪
(Come down selector, rewind)
♪
Louder, louder
Louder, louder
♪
Louder, louder
Louder, louder
Louder, louder
Louder, louder
♪
(I mean, what did you achieve at predrinks over the weekend, eh?)