No Money, No Monday - Youth Killed It

And just a simple self employed man

Brains not good, so I use my hands

Up at the break of dawn

I beat the local rooster to an early yawn

A cup of tea to smooth the rough

No sugar as I’m sweet enough

It’s alright, it pays a decent amounts

But that’s what I thought until I checked my account

And I don’t work for free

I don’t do things for a little bit of XP

We ain’t shaking hands with each other

We ain’t shouting: «Nice one, brother!»

You think I’m joking but I’m not being funny

I won’t be turning up if you ain’t got my money

No money, no Monday

No money, no Monday

I didn’t sign as a debt collector

Through your books like an account inspector

I don’t mean to break your neck I

Just want what I’m owed and expect

I see you taking all the payments through

I just want your end of the bargain to hold true

I put my invoice into your inbox

So I want my money no more, no less

Put the transfer into your outbox

Make it rain in my account instead