Down in the street they walk on by,
taking all the money from the hole in the sky well,
I saw someone in the satellite sun with a briefcase in his hand,
or was he holding a gun?
They got the purse,
but they don't stand a chance there's a battle all around,
he said, "Fuck art, lets dance,"
while I was standing by on an ATM and people waiting in line
to get that freedom in their hands.
And I know, that these streets were never paved with gold,
but that was so we're told, and our story books are all dated and old,
and you know you can rewrite them, should the pages fall,
and the ones who don't believe,
well fuck 'em all.
Right around the corner the from your dixie cup fun,
there's the malt liquor drums all beatin' on the slums,
you walk on by,
but don't you feel afraid that your 40oz
will be a cappuccino some day?
And I know, that these streets were never paved with gold,
but that was so we're told, and your dreams it seems these days are,
bought and sold, but the feeling still breathes in a crowded dance hall,
and the ones who don't believe,
well fuck 'em all.