LYRIC

Happy hour belongs to America's best-loved thugs
Here come the four-wheel drive prosthetic penises
Got your gun racks, tractor tires and lynch mob drivers, we couldn't find a chick to sit in the middle
So we drink ourselves sick, lean out the windows and pinch ass instead

We are the goons of Hazzard
Glorified on your tv
We run down bikes and hitchhikers
And we know we'll get off scot-free

We're the vigilante heroes of your tough guy flicks
Bashing punks and bums and fags with our baseball bats
No deer to blow away in the woods today so we go to Oroville and shoot a black kid down
Or waste demonstrators in Greensboro instead

We are the goons of Hazzard
Glorified on your tv
We'll leave you in a pool of blood
'Cause we know we'll get off scot-free

Let's get him!
C'mere!
C'mere!
Say something to me?

We've got him cornered
We've got him cornered
Is anybody looking?
Does anybody even care? No!

The local papers paint us up to be big heroes
City fathers and chamber of commerce want us deputized
Stoner gestapo keeping your town clean, get a shave kid, we'll pay you as a strikebreaker
Maybe you'll be make Tac Squad for the L. A. P. D

We are the goons of Hazzard
Glorified on your tv
We'll leave you in a pool of blood
'Cause we know we'll get off scot-free

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