"Hey, Steve," Nat says, "this one even has your name in it."

Steve walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,
Machine guns ready to go
Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat
Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one bites the dust ...

Steve smashes the radio with a clenched fist before he has to listen to another refrain.