He was born on 6/30,
but it should’ve been 7/4.
His awesomeness just could not be contained.

He would’ve been special forces,
or maybe a Green Beret,
but there were things about him he refused to change.

The French Foreign Legion
was just too French for him,
and the police didn’t like his new tattoo.

The people in the suburbs,
they all need protecting,
so he knew right then what he would have to do.

He bought a rifle!
And it was black!
He slung it on his shoulder,
let it hang across his back.

He bought a t-shirt!
It was bad ass!
And he gave an icy glare
to any stranger who would pass.

If he don’t like your haircut
better keep out of his way.
He’s the baddest in the suburbs
probably the USA.

He ain’t in no party.
Can’t tell him how to think. 
He’s always listening to the radio.

The Russians might be coming 
or maybe civil war
or a zombie horde coming down the road.

He’ll protect the women’s restroom
from dubious trespassers
And he’ll squall a cry of freedom to the wind.

In case of armageddon,
break the glass and let him out.
He’ll be the sole survivor in the end.

He bought a rifle!
And it was black!
He slung it on his shoulder,
Let it hang across his back!

He bought a t-shirt!
It was bad ass!
And he stares his icy stare
at any weirdo who dares pass!

If you can’t mind your manners,
better keep out of his way.
He’s the baddest in the suburbs,
probably the USA.