Lord, Freddie's woman she done something
She had never done before
She was in the bed with another man
Made Freddie's pallet on the floor
He got mad, he got bad,
With his gun, in his hand
Freddie woman saw him coming
Went and fell down on her knees
I could hear her crying, "Now Freddie,
Spare my life if you please.
I know your mad, you got bad,
With your gun in your hand."
Freddie meet the policeman
With his big gun in his hand
"Fred I heard you done killed your woman"
He said, "Yes, I'm lookin' for that man.
He made me mad, I got bad,
With my gun in my hand."
Freddie said, "Looka here judge
Judge, wouldn't-a you got mad
you'd-a come home and found your woman
With another man in your bed?
You'd got mad, you'd got bad,
With your gun, in your hand."
Freddie said, "Now mama,
mama you have let me go
Cause the woman mistreated me
and I had to shoot her so
I got mad, I got bad
With my gun in my hand."
Now Freddie say he lay down
Tried not to pay her no mind
But awhile before day Freddie awoke
Heard some springs cryin'
He got mad, he got bad,
With his gun in his hand
Freddie's papa told Freddie,
"Son, here's what you done wrong:
When you found out that woman won't treat you right
Son, why didn't you let her alone?
You got mad, you got bad,
With your gun in your hand."
Freddie said, "Looka here papa,
Papa wouldn't you got mad,
you'd-a come home and found mama
With another man in your bed?"
You'd got mad, you'd got bad
With your gun, in your hand
Freddie's papa said, "Yes,
Son, I tell you what I'm gonna do...
If the judge gives you forty years
I'll have him pardon you
for being mad, being bad
With your gun in your hand."
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Lyrics submitted by Matthew Presti.