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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