Letras
Stick up your hands, you must stand and deliver
My stomach's empty, my clothes are all torn
Open your hearts to the joys of the giver
Only your pockets are terribly worn
This is a holdup, no way to mistake it
We're men of violence so don't fool around
If you have money we're going to take it
Try and stop us, you'll end underground
When we get your money
We'll ride towards the sunset
At Rosa's Canteen we'll stop at the door
We'll spend all your money
Just getting the nose wet
Tomorrow evening we'll be back for more
So hand us the money, don't stand there and shiver
Tax time is coming, give alms to the poor
Or I'll put a bullet right through your best liver
Wealth is disease and I am the cure
When we get your money
We'll ride towards the sunset
At Rosa's Canteen we'll stop at the door
We'll spend all your money
Just getting the nose wet
Tomorrow evening we'll be back for more
So hand us the money, don't stand there and shiver
Tax time is coming, give alms to the poor
Or I'll put a bullet right through your best liver
Wealth is disease and I am the cure