Blackout, heatwave, .44 caliber homicide,
The bums drop dead and the dogs go mad in packs on the West Side
A young girl standing on a ledge, looks like another suicide,
She wants to hit those bricks,
'cause the news at six got to stick to a deadline,
While the millionaires hide in Beekman place,
The bag ladies throw their bones in my face,
I get attacked by a kid with stereo sound,
I don't want to hear it but he won't turn it down....
