Filled with smoke, a room without doors
Turned the lights low, fit for motherfuckers and whores
He says
I gotta little job in mind for you son
This ain't a joke
You move or you're dead
So put all your hands
Up to your motherfuckin' heads
And scream
This is a hijack
Scream
This is the hijack
Says he dictates the breaks
With a red right hand full of paper mistakes
He says
Don't even think about tryin' to escape
So he told the band to play
And took up a seat in front of the stage
All the dancing girls stopped
And stared
'what's he carrying under there?'
He orders a whiskey, lights a cigar
Wipes the thick red blood from his hands like a bath
Until the doorman calls him sir when he walks out the room
The whole place calls him sir, when he walks out the room