(Paul Simonon) When they kick at your front door How you gonna come? With your hands on yoru head Or on the trigger of your gun
When the law break in How you gonna go? Shot down on the pavement Or waiting on death row
CHORUS You can crush us Yo ucan bruise us But you'll never have to answer to Oh-the guns of Brixton
The money feels good And your life you like it well But surely your time will come As in heaven, as in hell
You see, he feels like Ivan Born under the Brixton sun His game is called survival At the end of the harder they come
You know it means no mercy They caught him with a gun No need for the Black Maria Goodbye to the Brixton sun
You can crush us You can bruise us Yes, even shoot us But oh-the guns of Brixton ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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