I have the road in my blood I drive a custom van I play the tunes I'm the neighborhood ice cream man So don't you mess this boy around The other day, when the clinic had its local debut Some chicks were trying to picket The doctor threatened to sue Now I don't care if it's a baby or a tissue blob But if we run out of youngsters I'll be out of a job, and so I I did my duty cleaning up the neighborhood I blew up the clinic real good Try and catch me, coppers You stinking badges better think again Before you mess this boy around I've hung in Saigon just to see the special effects I've hung from gravity boots for my Napoleon complex It's time to close Ooh... there she blows History in the making You picked the fight I picked dynamite I blew up the clinic real good Preacher on a corner Calling it a crime Says, "The end don't justify the means anytime" I stood up on my van I yelled, "Excuse me, sir. Ain't nothing wrong with this country That a few plastic explosives won't cure."