Jazzland Bandits (Welcome To Your New Life)

I haven't seen a cop this bad
Since Guttenburgs' Mahoney
The sheriffs and the sandwiches
Are both filled with bologna
There's a cold hard metal bed
Next to a cold hard metal crapper
And a cold hard metal chair
Next to the prosthetic-legged rapper

From the top of the Zephyr
To the bottom of the barrel
In monochromatic and itchy ill fitting apparel
There's a trainee and a geezer
With an ugly singing horde
There's a dozen of us harmonizing to another inmates' snore
There's a short little gangsta using a pen for a knife
As a Jon Gosselin doppelganger
Welcomes me to my new life
His wife can't take care of their dog
So I laugh at him in Walgreens
And I flip him off just like a pog

And now I suppose you know how the story goes
Of the Jazzland Bandits drinking Cobras and Lokos

And now I suppose you know how the story goes
Of those Jazzland Bandits when they're drinking those
Four Lokos
Those four Lokos