"We work nights, we some vampires/Niggas gather round the beat like a campfire/Singin' folk songs, but not no Kumbaya my Lord/You download it for free, we get charged back for it/I know you're saying, they won't know they won't miss it/Besides, I ain't a thief, they won't pay me a visit/So if I come to your job, take your corn on the cob/And take a couple kernels off it that would be alright with you/Hell no! Yeah, exactamundo/But we just keep recording and it ain't to get no condo/And Candy Bentley fanny with no panties in Miami/And that cute lil' chick named Tammy that you took to the Grammys/See we do it for that boi that graduated/ That looked you in your eyes real tough and said 'preciate it/And that he wouldn'ta made it if it wasn't for your CD number 9/And he's standing with his baby momma Kiki and she cryin' talkin' bout/That they used to get high to me in high school/And they used to make love to me in college/Then they told me 'bout they first date, listenin' to my tunes/And how he, like to finger nail polish/I say hate to cut you off but I gotta go/I wish you could tell me mo' but I'm off to the studio, gotta write tonight/Hey, can you put us in your raps? I don't see why not/Devin it's the Dude you gon' probably hear him talking 'bout"
-Andre 3000, "What a Job"
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