66th Street
by:
Atmosphere
Hi, can I help you?
I think it was a Sunday, sometime in January
I could be wrong and I guess it isn't necessary
But I remember that the ground was made of snow
And if you went outside, you better take your coat
I must have been nineteen years old
I had a cashier job at a convenience store
Working the counter making minimum doe
Selling discount smokes to the neighbourhood folk
I didn't pay much thought to his ski mask
It's Minnesota man, your face will freeze fast
But I bet that I looked sorta dumb
When I first caught sight of his bright orange gun
There I am, adrenaline high and
Tryin to decide how I feel about his right hand
Is that a goddamn? Wait a minute
It is a flare gun and guess where he's aiming it
You probably ain't here to win the lottery
So you obviously gotta be robbin me
He nodded his head so opened up the till
And grabbed a paper bag for the money cause I know the drill
I handed him the cash and the food stamps
He just stood there looking all confused and
I'm thinking 'Yo, why the fuck ain't he movin?'
C'mon crazy white boy, don't do somethin stupid
That bag is worth maybe two-thirty
Not enough for you to pull the trigger back and burn me
By now you should be down the street
Ain't you never seen the way they do this shit on TV?
Yeah it was fun but it's done, now get out
'Ah, do you want me lay down on the ground and start countin crops?'
Before the ski way even started noddin
I was already on that, one one-thousand, two one-thousand
The front door beeped, I heard him leave
So I called my boss and the Richfield police
Gotta close the shop and lock the doors
Cause some trailer trash just robbed the store
Everybody acted so suspicious
I guess the flare gun story seemed fictitious
Are you accusing me of petty embezzlement?
Don't you see my left over adrenaline?
Bosses and cops can't be my friend
Never felt loyalty to either again
And to keep it real, the irony didn't set
Until a year later when I got fired for stealing cigarettes
