(instrumental opening)

Criminal acts by receivers
crusin' high-speed through cop-traps.
Pounced by smokeys on Jersey roads
and they will not shut their yaps.
"They walk on edges, dumb," said I
stewed 'neath heated brow.
Ah, but I was reading Daily News.
I read New York Times now.

Half-assed prejudice leaped forth:
Anti-gay crap, Tim screamed.
Typed up there in black-and-white
from his empty skull, it seemed.
Romantic tales of glory years
of New York Knicks, somehow.
Ah, but I was reading Daily News.
I read New York Times now.

Girls' faces formed an angry look
with nasty jealousy
to memorizing players' tricks
of "romantic" history
flung down by sports evangelists
unthinking, though, somehow.
Ah, but I was reading Daily News.
I read New York Times now.

A self-ordained professor writes
the column of a fool.
Spouted out that he thinks kids should
forget pros and stay in school.
Their quality is not preferred
but this scribe has a cow.
Ah, but I was reading Daily News.
I read New York Times now.

And our quarterback leads our attack
at the mongrel dogs who screech
fearing not that he'd receive an enema
as linebackers hit his breach.
His pathways struck with concussion blows.
To play him, don't allow.
Ah, but I was reading Daily News.
I read New York Times now.

Yes, point guard stood hard when abstract threats
too noble to neglect
deceived him into thinking he
had a big lead to protect.
Good and bad, A-Rod has been both.
He's got to win, somehow.
Ah, but I was reading Daily News.
I read New York Times now.

(instrumental close)