Lyrics:

Happy hour belongs to America's best-loved thugs
Here come the four-wheel drive prosthetic penises
Got your gun racks, tractor tires, and lynch mob drivers
We couldn't find a chick to sit in the middle
So, we drink ourselves sick
Lean out the windows, and pinch ass instead

We are the Goons of Hazzard
Glorified on your TV
We run down bikes and hitchhikers
'Cause we know we'll get off scot-free

We're the vigilante heroes of your tough-guy flicks
Bashing punks and bums and fags
With our baseball bats
No deer to blow away in the woods today
So, we go to Oroville and shoot a Black kid down
Or waste demonstrators in Greensboro instead

We are the Goons of Hazzard
Glorified on your TV
We leave you in a pool of blood
'Cause we know we'll get off scot-free


Get him
Get him
C'mere
C'mere
Say something to me?
We've got him cornered
We've got him cornered
Is anybody looking?
Does anybody even care?
No!
Yes!

Local papers paint us up to be big heroes
City fathers and Chamber of Commerce want us deputized
The stoner Gestapo keepin' your town clean
Get a shave, kid
We'll pay you as a strikebreaker
Maybe you'll make Tac Squad for the LAPD

We are the Goons of Hazzard
Glorified on your TV
We leave you in a pool of blood
'Cause we know we'll get off scot-free

Free
Scot-free
Scot-free
We always get off
We always get off
We always get off free!