Guitar Man Upstairs

[Intro]
I wrote this song about a neighbor I used to have. I hope he's dead

[Song]
Think I'm gonna call the police, I hear something upstairs
I know good and well there ain't nothing good going on up there
Prob'ly ten or more of them sittin' all around
Smokin' that stuff and drinkin' that hard liquor down

I've been living in this city since the day I was born
I've seen good times come and go and I've seen bad times drag on
I've seen white and black folks alike get treated just like sin
Every year or so I see a new truck load of white trash movin' in

When I was sixteen I had a little trouble with the law
He said "Boy come here," I said "Boy yourself, I ain't done nothing wrong"
Grabbed me by the arm and he went upside my head
Nobody saw nothing, but I got a little spot where my hair ain't grown back yet

I used to have me a woman and a pretty fine home
But it took so much to keep 'em both goin' I was always out and gone
I came home one afternoon to get me change of clothes
Caught a quick-walkin', slick-talkin' guitar-picker headin' out my back door

And I'm proud to say I ain't never been no violent man
But I'd sure be rottin' in jail today if I'd had me a gun in my hand
I went inside and threw her clothes on the floor and laid a suitcase across the bed
Not a word got spoke, not a lick got throwed, and my woman ain't come back yet

Now I live in this building with these punks and freaks
And I don't do much of nothing, 'cept go to work and come home and drink
So guitar man upstairs, you done picked the wrong damn place to stay
I'm just a feeble old man, you a young smart-ass, and there's a law-man on his way