You work that fancy language
Like Beelzebub at my ear
The words you speak
Ain't the same as the message
That I'm gettin loud and clear
You pa** that loco reefer
Like the ice cream man on my street
And all the while
You think you're clever
As if I couldn't keep my feet
You scheme and plot and run the numbers
Until they come out right
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,
Friday, Saturday night
But with Sunday comes the paper
With a headline loud and true:
If you think
You'll win me over
Then you better get a clue.