First I came to see the doctor, told him I was unemployed
Asked me what I did for money, told him I was overjoyed
To reach into the basket, and take a bunch of dimes
Drop them for the paper riddled with my rhymes
Take a message to the clerk, tell him not to work
Then I came to see the priest, said I knew God was alive
He looked at me quite solemn, said “Son don't give me that jive”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out .45
Said “Priest I got your number, and this here ain't no jive”
Take a message to the clerk, tell him not to work