We're cooking the books, we're cooking the books here
We were taking a bath
So I took to the math
Everyone with a pension
Pay attention:
You just lost your job
As your life as your wife and my kid
There's some blood in your grits
From your hand which I bit
I'll be throwing a sh** fit
Grab your pitchforks and torches
And take to the nochés
You think that we'll work?
I'm going to jail, I'm going to jail now
But I'll be phoning it in
Slicing garlic so thin
It liquifies in the pan
Luca Brasi and me
Start our own bra**erie
Open up out on Sing-Sing
I've got my hand in my tin
Honey jars spread from Crawford
To bars, I make a... k**ing
Ask Jeffrey Sk**ing
You don't understand greed
It's not fun it's a need
[hold]
It's the pork not the beans
Not the peaches, the cream
That you want in your belly
Take what I'm selling
And pa** me the jelly
Excuse me, preserves
Tell me what do you think I deserve?