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letra de part three - mc chris

my fedora’s full of rain
i resemble sam spade
even though i try in vain
this city can’t be saved
reminiscing of a roosevelt
policing the police
when i’m not keeping the peace
i’m misplacing my niece

i got gl-sses, a mustache
stains of coffee and tobacco
first p-ss the cigarettes
call for back up when i hack up
my steady stream of coffee
could you keep me cafeinated?
the world is such a pleasure
always raining and i hate it

special forces veteran
more tools and zone than zepplin
came back to chicago
sweet home needed some defended
but they say there’s bad behavior
had me gruff by stranger danger
took a dirty lot
a dirty cop
should a stopped him
later
see chicago has a history of oafish officials
they goldfish
and they know this
while i get a dismissal
gotham’s looking awesome
it can’t possibly be corrupt
then i show up
and i grow up
cuz i know that i am f-cked
what

my name is gordon
can’t afford it
put your hands in the sky
i don’t rough ’em
i just cuff ’em
i ain’t bluffin’
no lie
call me mcgruff
can’t get enough
all this stuff you call crime
it’s pretty sh-tty
i’ll admit it
but this city’s all mine

picked on in a parking garage
ambushed by a bunch of thugs
skull and ski-mask baseball bats
followed by a lunch of drugs
threats against my wife and kids
safe at home asleep and snug
broken gl-sses
broken ribs
don’t mean jim won’t f-ck you up
runnin on the road
don’t liken the cold
i’m p-ssed
no doubt about it
we drop our guns
i throw mine back
it’s an unfair fight without it
he gets the bearings
i crush the larynx
now he ain’t fairing so good
i strip and cuff
and leave him enough
by the side of the road in the woods
he keeps depressin’ on guessin’
cuz i start messin’ with essin
i had a wife and a family
now i’m composing confession
she’s coming at me with questions
a lot of pent up aggressions
she starts a quick packing session
she leaves no message, i’m stressing
better get better instead
better yet bottle some friends
needs hit the poor
cuz the d-mn divorce
has oddly throttled my threads
at the end of my rope
i quiver and cope
all alone by the phone in my bed
i go for a glimmer of hope
get nothing but ghosts
til a coast in the den

i’m commended
i’m commissioner
throw my prisoners
up in blackgate
i’m -ssisted
by the prisoner
who insists upon visiting mad lace
so i’m often working overtime
clenching over casefiles
i leave the window open
hoping
he arrives
and my face smiles
always on my side
can’t be controlled by the mob
i know he’s on the case
and won’t beat off til it’s solved
i have an instinct
bugs are listening
let’s move this thing
to the roof
i installed a signal
for when i need you
if you needed the proof
the common criminal is evolved
into a costume and codename
i gather in groves
they’re k!lling ’em
it goes both ways
you got access to weaponry
but your enemies gonna top it
these ‘splosions are enormous
and the body count’s catastrophic
they all know i’m your accomplice
soon to be coming after me
they’re gonna hold me hostage
or hurt barbara
wait and see
his name’s joker
he’s an owner of a carnival on the outskirts
stockpile a toxin
that’s a foxin
before we have ourselves an outburst

- mc chris

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