|
The Coup - The Repo Man Sings for You lyrics
featuring Del [Del] It's the Repo Man! Reposession is my occupation It's not my fault you facin foreclosure, I told ya I'm just an agent, workin for the man and his manuscript say you owe him for this land Don't cry to me, and don't lie to me Actin like you ain't home, fakin on the phone You shoulda thought about that when you bought the Benzy You missed a few increments now we gotta come and get yo' shit If you slip on the payments I get paid to make sure that you pay rent or get out, throw all your clothes in the streets Frozen meats, out your refridgerator then my boys come back and get it later with the forklift Heh, we don't care how hard you worked, we takin yo' shit It's too late, your payment's way past your due date You couldn't hide from me, even with a new face or plastic surgery, your debt's outstandin I don't care about your family, don't hand me no excuses, you know it's useless, no one's stoppin me Just get off the property before I bring the cops with me Possibly, this could turn into a criminal act Gimme your fax machine, PlayStation in the basement adjacent, to the big screen television You can't tell the system no, we gotta get the dough The company want they G's, or the keys to the convertible, and hey, nothin personal, okay? I'm just doin my job (you know?) Collectin on your debts, now you're losin a wad Bruisin your wallet, whatever in your pocketbook all get took, to my agency, then they payin me It ain't phasin me, that's my thing When I mob off witcha shit, listen to me sing La la la la la la la, la la la la la *repeat 8X* [Boots] *thck* One, paycheck from sleepin on the street *tchka* Two/too, many bills my scrill don't meet *tchka* Three day notice from the landlord on the seat Fo-fo', caliber shots ain't discrete But motherfuckers still jack frequent, no secret cause they shit be delinquent And on closer inspection, reposession collection motivates birth protection in the brokest section In other words, the ghetto Repo Man, pullin strings like Giupetto Squeeze two at him, let go Cause I just gotta be real I'm tired of informercials with them five-year payment deals See I was sleepin on the carpet in my apartment when I heard my car ignition cause somebody sparked it So I run all the way down the hallway full throttle Don't give in is my motto, so I bust him with a bottle He screamin, "Whatchu gon' pay me with?" Then he started laughin singin crazy shit [Del] La la la la la la la, la la la la la I said, "SHUT THE FUCK UP," and then I banked him in the jaw But that was no use, even though he skidaddled bill collectors make my phone rattle, tell my kids don't tattle When you pick up the receiver, I'm sick with a fever You don't know where I am either Even hillbillies at a party linedancin get they Ford trucks with poor financing Banks that give the loan figure - damn, in the worst case we makin money cause we had it in the first place! And where was it that they got that cash from? You when you deposit it from bustin yo' ass Well two weeks after that last altercation I noticed my front lock had a slight alteration My TV was gone and out the window from my room I heard the Repo Man sing his devious tune, it went [Del] La la la la la la la, la la la la la *repeat 8X |
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 The Funeral of God by Zao |
 Lost and Found by Will Smith |
 Version by Mark Ronson |
 Ray Ray by Raphael Saadiq |
 Good Girl Gone Bad by Rihanna |
