Easy or hard kid it's up to you I don't wanna be here any more than you do See the lump in my jacket? Yeah that's a pistol Open up the register And grab me a fistful Of twenty dollar bills but keep your hands where I can see 'em I got babies at home and brother I gotta feed 'em I know you think I'm some kind of trash Stickin' up a kid at the Quik-Trip gas But I've been to the desert man I served three tours Crawlin' in the dirt while you were sweepin' the floors And it's hard to keep a job when you just can't pretend That you never heard a body bag zipping over your best friend
Put your hands up I did what anybody else would do I went the church sat in the very last pew Preacher said Jesus would save my soul But he never showed up when we were out on patrol And a bomb went off And there he was pointing at me He didn't speak a word of English but I swear I heard him scream Put your hands up I ain't a bad man just a man outta luck And I know how it feels how it feels to be stuck Like everywhere you're turning the door's slammed shut Now I hate to be the one to pour the salt down in your cut But put your hands up