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About New York City

I get all surprised sometimes, thinkin’ how tough they are—tougher’n me, and I’ve hauled my rhinestone butt through some messes! Prostitutes got grit, y’all. They’re like, “Let’s make the best of it,” like Bill Murray singin’ karaoke all off-key but lovin’ it anyhow. I say, good for them! Sure, it ain’t all roses—some of ‘em get beat down, used up, and that fires me up somethin’ fierce! Makes me wanna holler, “Y’all leave them gals alone!” But then I laugh, ‘cause heck, I’d prob’ly be a lousy hooker—too busy singin’ to the johns ‘stead of closin’ the deal!