| Lyrics: | Here he comes, he's coming down the street
With his drunken wife and his kids that he
beats
He's gonna tell you that life is hard
Then he'll dump his trash in your back
yard
You'll here lots of talk about the racially pure
When Mr. X moves in next
door
Just take a walk on the ignorant side
And you'll get to see what goes on in his
mind
Just take a walk on the ignorant side
And you'll get to see through his
eyes
There he goes, now he's on the lawn
With his Sans-a-Belt pants and Hush Puppies
on
The sky is blue and the bees are buzzin'
He must be the product of two first
cousins
He's got a rifle and a low I.Q.
He doesn't close his mouth when he chews his
food
Oh, please, dear God, strike him dead
Aim a lightning bolt at his head
Oh,
please, Reverend Sun Yung Moon,
Send someone to kill him soon
Oh, Mohammed, Prophet of
Allah,
Run him over with his own Impala
Oh, please, kill him, Shirley MacLaine
Take a
pipe and bash in his brain
Here he comes, driving 'round the block
Sticking
pamphlets in your mailbox
Inviting your kids to Aryan Youth Camp
moving his ammo when his
basement gets damp
Training his dog to attack your cat
Hitting your mower with a baseball
bat
Here he comes into your life
With about as much charm as a Bowie
knife
He'll swim in your pool when you're not home
And steal your tools and your garden
gnome
Here he comes, coming down the street
With his drunken wife and his kids that be
beats
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