Not Now James, We're Busy... lyrics

Song information

Artist: Pop Will Eat Itself
Album: Wise Up Suckers

Lyrics

Augusta, georgia, late september
One mr. brown's hot tempeed
This man's possessed, he's restless
Armed and dangerous, drugged and reckless
Mrs. brown you've got a lovely son
But he's on the run on a shotgun mission
"Listen here cocksuckers, motherfuckers, pay respect to my building
It's jb property and it could be the one you get killed in."
Cops arrive, "what's this, what's happening
What's what, where's the hot shot?"
James pressed his luck too far this time
His pick-up truck's flat out and flying
Cops get excited and grin with glee;
They got themsevles a celebrity!
7 cars give chase "you're in the clear...this is the race of the year!"
"Faster soul master, they're coming at you from all directions
Speed's your protection...don't look behind you 'til south carolina"
Cops spring a roadblock "he ain't gonna stop!"
"He's gonna take a pop!"
Someone opens fire, the trucks front tyres are blown out
"Get the hell out!"..
As six mile skid, trapped in a ditch
In the lap of the fbi, the secret service
The russians, "they're all in this, they're doing it to james
Like they did it to elvis"
A "good-foot" dance in a dusted trance..
Breath tested "no chance!" arrested!