[Verse 1]
6 years at the bank
And all that I got was this shitty old hand
Never again, never again
[Verse 2]
3 years at the trope
And all that I got was this wax-stamped frame
And a deed in my name
[Verse 3]
I survived a bar-room fight
Fists heavy, weapons drawn
But did you see my black eye, constable?
I was doing my job
He said thanks for doing my job