They're boiling down a platform
The helipad's complete
They're flying in a fatcat
So he won't have to smell the streets
Streetwalkers hear the chopper
They think it's the police
The fatcat's mumbling memos
To a young girl at his feet
And his thirty-five vice-presidents
All drive Cadillac Sevilles
Which they keep polishing
In hopes they get to join
The Gang on Fortune Hill

They're peeling off a billboard
And rolling up a star
The Marlboro man's been shot down
By the girl with the cigar
And they're tearing down a building
But the squatters have a hunch
They get back inside the ruins
While the wreckers have their lunch
Captain gets on the horn and says
Get out or you'll all be killed
Don't you know the building
Spoils the view
For the Gang on Fortune Hill

The smog has nearly lifted
Busdrivers are on strike
People walk the streets now
But they stay indoors at night
All except for someone
Who tried to make it big
When they shot him from a limo
His last words were hey man dig
If you wanna get ahead now
You're gonna have to pay the bill
Cough it up and deliver it
With a smile
To the Gang on Fortune Hill