I was shooting in the back of the car. When the windows smashed on the police cars. I was swimming through the streets of New York. With my cocaine dagger and throats to cut. And it was making her cry.... But it was making me high. She was a hooker at the age of sixteen. All she wanted was the money she didn't need an I.D.. She was a junkie and I know it's cliche. But then so was her life I mean she lived in L.A.. And it was making her cry.... But it was making her high. And it was making her cry.... And it was making her high. Riot in my skull. The demons are coming. Los Angeles is dead. These drugs ain't working. Painted it all black. The chains are jerking. Los Angeles is dead. The drugs ain't working. Riot in my skull. The demons are coming. Los Angeles is dead. The drugs ain't working. Los Angeles is dead. The drugs ain't working. Los Angeles is dead.