Salt-n-Pepa, Left Eye, etc.

(appears on The Songs Of West Side Story)



 



Excuse me Mr. Officer

You think we're bad, huh?

You wanna clean up the streets, huh?

Well you better put society in handcuffs

Ha ha, you got a hard job



Music by Bernstein

Lyrics by Sondheim

I'm talkin' 'bout West Side Story

It's before my time

Police sweat me like the Sharks & the Jets

Because I do what I does

So they wanna hit me

If you let me

I'll explain the game

Clear my name

And show you ain't a damn thing changed

So don't criticize the way that I ball hey

This ain't Broadway

We learned it the hard way



Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke

You gotta understand

It's just our bringin' upke

That gets us out of hand

Our mothers all are junkies

Our fathers all are drunks

Golly Moses, naturally we're punks



Gee, Officer Krupke

We're very upset

We never had the love

That every child oughta get

We ain't no deliquents

We're misunderstood

Deep down inside us there is good



There is good!



There is good, there is good

There is untapped good

Like inside, the worst of us is good



You see, Officer Krupkee

You gotta have some compassion

You know, you always harrassin' me

But what you don't understand is

I come from a broken home

My momma don't care about me

My daddy don't care about me

And you always gettin' on my case

It ain't me homeboy

It's society



Dear kindly Judge, your Honour

My parents treat me rough

With all their marijuana

They won't give me a puff

They didn't wanna have me

But somehow I was had

Leapin' lizards, that's why I'm so bad



Right! Officer Krupke

You're really a square

This boy don't need a judge

He needs an analyst's care

It's just his neurosis

That oughta be curbed

He's psychologically disturbed



He's disturbed!



We're disturbed, we're disturbed

We're the most disturbed

Like we're psychologically disturbed



We out of our minds you know what I'm sayin'

Yeah, because we got problems

Deep down inside

I ain't got no analystic junk heap

And sit down on the couch

Then find out why I'm disturbed

I know why I'm disturbed

And you know what

I don't care

Cuz it's just like that

And that's just how it is

You know what I'm sayin'

That's the way it is

Crazy



Father is a bastard

My mom's an S-O-B

My grandpa's always plastered

My gramma pushes tea

My sister wears a moustache

My brother wears a dress

Goodness gracious, that's why I'm a mess



Officer Krupkee you're really a slob

This boy don't need a doctor

Just a good honest job

Society played him a terrible trick

And socialogically he's sick



We are sick!



We are sick, we are sick

We are sick sick sick

Like we're sociologically sick



In other words

This is what happens when cousins marry

We are pendejo heads, inbred

Hey we're like Chicano Forrest Gump's



Dear kindly social worker

They say go earn a buck

Like be a soda jerker

Which means like be a schmuck

It's not I'm antisocial

I'm only antiwork

Glory Osky, now that's why I'm a jerk

Officer Krupkee ya done it again

This boy don't need a doc

He needs a year in the pen

It ain't just a question of misunderstood

Deep down inside, he ain't no damn good



I'm no good!



We're no good, we're no good

We're no earthly good

Like the best of us is no damn good



The trouble is he's crazy

The trouble is he drinks

The problem is he's lazy

The trouble is he stinks

The trouble is he's growin'

The trouble is he's grown

Krupkee we've got troubles of our own



Gee, Officer Krupkee

We're down on our knees

Cuz no one wants a fella

With a social disease

Gee, Officer Krupkee

What are we to do

Gee, Officer Krupkee

Krup you!