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