TLC - Gee, Officer Krupkee Lyrics
Salt-n-pepa, left eye, etc.(appears on the songs of west side story)Excuse me mr. officerYou think were bad, huh?You wanna clean up the streets, huh?Well you better put society in handcuffsHa ha, you got a hard jobMusic by bernsteinLyrics by sondheimIm talkin bout west side storyIts before my timePolice sweat me like the sharks & the jetsBecause I do what I doesSo they wanna hit meIf you let meIll explain the gameClear my nameAnd show you aint a damn thing changedSo dont criticize the way that I ball heyThis aint broadwayWe learned it the hard wayDear kindly sergeant krupkeYou gotta understandIts just our bringin upkeThat gets us out of handOur mothers all are junkiesOur fathers all are drunksGolly moses, naturally were punksGee, officer krupkeWere very upsetWe never had the loveThat every child oughta getWe aint no deliquentsWere misunderstoodDeep down inside us there is goodThere is good!There is good, there is goodThere is untapped goodLike inside, the worst of us is goodYou see, officer krupkeeYou gotta have some compassionYou know, you always harrassin meBut what you dont understand isI come from a broken homeMy momma dont care about meMy daddy dont care about meAnd you always gettin on my caseIt aint me homeboyIts societyDear kindly judge, your honourMy parents treat me roughWith all their marijuanaThey wont give me a puffThey didnt wanna have meBut somehow I was hadLeapin lizards, thats why Im so badRight! officer krupkeYoure really a squareThis boy dont need a judgeHe needs an analysts careIts just his neurosisThat oughta be curbedHes psychologically disturbedHes disturbed!Were disturbed, were disturbedWere the most disturbedLike were psychologically disturbedWe out of our minds you know what Im sayinYeah, because we got problemsDeep down insideI aint got no analystic junk heapAnd sit down on the couchThen find out why Im disturbedI know why Im disturbedAnd you know whatI dont careCuz its just like thatAnd thats just how it isYou know what Im sayinThats the way it isCrazyFather is a bastardMy moms an s-o-bMy grandpas always plasteredMy gramma pushes teaMy sister wears a moustacheMy brother wears a dressGoodness gracious, thats why Im a messOfficer krupkee youre really a slobThis boy dont need a doctorJust a good honest jobSociety played him a terrible trickAnd socialogically hes sickWe are sick!We are sick, we are sickWe are sick sick sickLike were sociologically sickIn other wordsThis is what happens when cousins marryWe are pendejo heads, inbredHey were like chicano forrest gumpsDear kindly social workerThey say go earn a buckLike be a soda jerkerWhich means like be a schmuckIts not Im antisocialIm only antiworkGlory osky, now thats why Im a jerkOfficer krupkee ya done it againThis boy dont need a docHe needs a year in the penIt aint just a question of misunderstoodDeep down inside, he aint no damn goodIm no good!Were no good, were no goodWere no earthly goodLike the best of us is no damn goodThe trouble is hes crazyThe trouble is he drinksThe problem is hes lazyThe trouble is he stinksThe trouble is hes growinThe trouble is hes grownKrupkee weve got troubles of our ownGee, officer krupkeeWere down on our kneesCuz no one wants a fellaWith a social diseaseGee, officer krupkeeWhat are we to doGee, officer krupkeeKrup you!
