 The midnight glancers and the topless dancers The candor freaks, car-packed with speakers The G's with the 40s and the chicks with beepers Why do the chicks have beepers? And it don't even matter if they faint or puncture All the crackheads, the critics, the cynics And all my heroes at the methadone clinics All you bastards at the IRS For the crooked cops and the cluttered desks For the shots of Jack and the caps of meth Half-punched