Money

"Sir, the statistician's here to see you"

"Good morning sir, I don't want to waste your time"

"Cut the shit"

"Sir, we've identified a near linear inverse correlation between the novel word count of a song and the airplay it receives. Interestingly when the same short words are repeated it seems to draw on tribalistic impulses and..."

"Get to the point"

"If we chant the same word they like it and listen more"

"Get out"

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Probably started in a boardroom

Like three hours after nine past

who the fuck cares it's 1955 and we're a buncha rich white guys

We don't go by time

Last quarter looked alright

But if we wanna be the fattest cats

We gotta eat rats

even skinny little artists wearing belts so tight they shit twine that's fact

If ya wanna whack a mole from inside

Then you gotta get him signed

So you can cut him line by line

First get inside his mind and find

The time to ticked off talk and kick stop

Drop to pick up redesign

Appeal to masses mash fry gentrify and multiply

detach the sight from inside the laid-back

Place behind the face you wanna mine

So by the time you find some sad sack dipshit look alike alive fake replacement face to take the limelight they say oh I guess that's fine and still stand in line

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