N.Y.C. Streets

I thought what was cool, was... uh, rockin' Rita

Looking for a Dimebag, like, people who don't

Know who you are think it's some chick lookin'

For dope.

Exaclty.

You know it's all about the lyrics.

You know what I mean?

Yeah, man.

Yeah, I hear ya.

Here we go...

Cowboy junkies on the radio

Singin' some ol' funky tune

Time to change the station

He says: Stop the car

Let me out

I say hey, dude

What's that all about

The artist formally known as

Man, that's insane

Purple Rain, hey dude

Cut me some slack

What's his real name

Bridge, man

New York City streets

Horns blowin'

I don't care

People goin' God knows where

Freaks on the corner

Hair dyed blue

Lookin' at me

But I'm lookin' at you

I wonder

What am I doin' here

What am I doin' here

Whiskey signs

Fashion in my mind

Time to get loaded

And get out of this town

Pantera on the Marquee

Better stay one more day

Iron Maiden, Motorhead

Fuck, heavy metal ain't dead

Hey dude

What's that you said

Rockin' Rita

Lookin' for a Dimebag

What's up with that dude

Ah, turn the music up

Turn the music up

Go to the bridge, now

New York City streets

Horns blowin'

I don't care

People goin' God knows where

I don't care

Freaks on the corner

Hair dyed blue

Lookin' at me

And I'm lookin' at you

What am I doin' here

God, what am I doin' here

You say your name is

Hey dude, check it out. I got this tape by some

Friends of mine, called Punk Jack. Ey, good, you

Gotta hear these guys. They ain't got no record

Deal. What difference does that make? You don't

Need a record deal, motherfucker - listen to the

Music, dude.

Fuckin' A, dude