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