[Verse 1: Deadpan monotone male MC, flat and level on the kick] I don't raise my voice, I raise a little flag Tuesday at nine with a pencil and a bag Fourteen pizza shops and not an oven running hot Two hundred pies a day in a strip mall parking lot Sal, I ate there, Sal, the crust was cold And the kid at the register didn't know what he sold Your Monday looks like Friday and your August looks like May Rain or shine or snow, it's eleven grand a day Real shops have bad weeks, real freezers break Real kids steal a twenty, real people make mistakes [Hook: Deadpan monotone male MC] Your books are clean, and that's the problem, Sal Nobody's books are clean, not the church, not the mall Every dime in its column, every column in a row Your books are too damn clean, and clean is how I know [Verse 2: Deadpan monotone male MC, no change in tone at all] Your lawyer brought me coffee and your nephew brought a threat Said "accidents happen," I said "not on this sheet yet" He leaned across the table with a pistol in his belt I wrote down "pistol, one" and asked him how he felt I audited a biker club, they called me Mister Flat One of them cried in the parking lot, I never asked him about that Real money comes in crumpled with some ketchup on the bill Yours comes in crisp as Sunday, counted down to the mill You paid your bookkeeper top dollar, and he earned every cent He made it all so perfect that it told me where it went [Hook: Deadpan monotone male MC] Your books are clean, and that's the problem, Sal Nobody's books are clean, not the church, not the mall Every dime in its column, every column in a row Your books are too damn clean, and clean is how I know [Bridge: Deadpan monotone male MC, adding-machine tape, the beat thins to one ratchet pull per line] Line one, flour, never bought Line two, cheese, never brought Line three, ovens, never fixed Line four, payroll, ghosts times six Line five, total, let it print Eleven grand of nothing, Sal, and not a dent [Verse 3: Deadpan monotone male MC, full beat back, still flat as a table] Feds are at the door and they're careful with the rug Your nephew's in the van, and he's giving me a shrug You ask me how I caught it when you paid to make it right Sal, you paid the man too much, and he made it way too tight The best lie has a typo and the best fake has a stain The best crook loses money on a Tuesday when it rains You wanted perfect numbers, so I'm giving you a line Fifteen years, no parole, and every year's on time [Hook: Deadpan monotone male MC] Your books are clean, and that's the problem, Sal Nobody's books are clean, not the church, not the mall Every dime in its column, every column in a row Your books are too damn clean, and clean is how I know [Outro: Deadpan monotone male MC] Balanced [End]
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