Job Song Consequence

[Consequence]
Excuse me I beg your pardon?
Nah, wha-wait hold up hold up hold up hold up
Bitch you don't
I don't get paid enough for you to be talkin to me like that
Straight up and down
I don't feel like standing by the fucking front door, alright?
You know what? Matter fact, a year from now
When you at home on your only day off and you watchin UPN
You see me come up there and get my motherfuckin award
Tell yo' kids I said

How'd I get stuck in a dead-end job when I can rap
But of course my bill collectors they ain't tryna hear that
Matter fact they askin Dexter when I plan to pay back
On that long line of credit that they lent me way back
Way back, way back, at the turn of the century
The notice they sent to me is sayin essentially
If I don't pay that balance off along with a extra fee
Penitentiary or criminal charges
Probably soon to follow if you dare disregard this
And that got me nauseous, and feelin precautious
Cause the fruits of my labor, ain't barin no harvest
At least as a artist cause AT LEAST as a artist
You become whoever when your time get the hardest
But who you 'sposed to call when they all think you garbage
And figured that you washed up, damn they so heartless
Cause when I called the office they act stiffer than starches