Lyrics
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
Free...
Scot-free
Scot-free
We'll get off...
We'll get off...
We'll get off scot-free