Don't Take Me Seriously - Book - Page 110
Rap
Continued from A1
(Yeah)
you’re rockin’ mellow ’cause
there’s nuthin’ left to do.
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
You know this time they’ll get it right.
(Word)
Things’ll be cool and you won’t have-ta
fight.
You’ll keep your house
and the kids get to eat.
(Word)
You got ’em dead to rights
and you can’t be beat.
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
Your numbers are good, can’t be confused.
(Yeah)
You’re in the right percentile, so put it on
cruise.
Been through all this, 12 times before.
Covered every base, now good fo’ sure.
(Yeah)
Even a dummy could see the proof
and you come home to party and raise the
roof.
(wick-wicka-whoopa, wick-wicka-whoopa)
Your ’yatch is there and your babies chillin’
(Yeah)
but there’s a blinkin’ light that’ll have you illin’.
You press the button on the message machine
and hear that voice that makes you scream.
(Yeah)
It’s “Anne from _____” to pick a bone,
an urgent message ’bout your freakin’ home
loan.
(wick-wicka-wAcka, wick-wicka-wAcka)
You toss that box, don’t press erase,
(Yeah)
know that number, gonna get in some face.
You make that call, to 866,
will chew some butt, won’t fall for their
tricks.
(Yeah)
Facts in hand you’re ready to straight ’em,
won’t buck no bull, ready to hate ’em.
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
You don’t dump on the first fool that answers
(Yeah)
but you get kinda cranky after 17 transfers.
They all call it up on their corporate screens
but most can’t clue to what it all means.
(Yeah)
You finally reach Ginny, who thinks she
knows,
gonna break it all down, blow by blow.
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
Ginny does her act, don’t mince no words,
(Yeah)
agrees with you ’bout the underwriter nerds.
They can’t get 4 from 2 and 2
but it don’t mean squat, ’cause they blame it
on you!
(Nooo!)
Seems you bought a boat back in ’75,
paid off in ’80 but the loan’s alive (what?).
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
You tell old Gins that that be bunk,
(Word)
insurance paid the loan when the dang thing
sunk.
But she can’t make no call, can’t be a sport
’cause the fools saw a line on some credit report.
(Oi!)
You say, “Hey Gin I have to ax ...
how do I fix this?” She says, “Send in a fax.”
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
You hate this jive but figure you’ll do it,
(Yeah)
just one more round, all there is to it.
But Gin lets slip, ’cause she now knows ya,
you gotta start over and you’re into forecloz-ya.
(What!)
You hear them all laugh as Gin says “bye”
and you swear right then that someone’s
gonna die.
(wick-wicka-whina, wick-wicka-whina)
You don’t follow through ’cause you ain’t no
hater,
(Yeah)
so they steal your house, and one year later
you pass that crib in your cardboard shoes
and sneak a peek inside, nothin’ left to lose.
(Yeah)
They turned your house to a business for
fraud
where they lure other fools with home-loan
mods!
(Like the Borg)
Yeah, home-loan mods!
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
Damn home-loan mods!
(wick-wicka-wicka, wick-wicka-wicka)
Jim Walker’s opinions do not necessarily
represent those of The Signal. But he does
want this rap song to go viral — and he
plans to sing all parts on YouTube — wordup.
