Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Ten Tax Commandments

 Can’t tell me nothing ‘bout this S-Corp
Can’t tell me nothing bout these taxes these liens
For my accounting brothers
Brothers in the cubicle I ain’t forget y’all

I been in this game for years, it made me an animal
There’s rules to this here, I wrote me a manual
A step-by-step booklet for you to get
Your refund back
I’m sure you’ve been overtaxed
Rule number uno always let the feds know,
How much kids you claim ‘cause you know
Your check will see
More cheddar B,‘specially,
If your kids stuck up, ‘cause now they’ll start to suck up
Number two, make sure you get your W2
Don’t you know tax guys need to file in compliance
I need it for your filing (uh-huh)
Or I can’t squeeze mad chips from these cats for your trips and whips
Number three, never trust nobody.
Your mom’s will act like your best friend just to claim you again
Apron and masked up, for that fast buck,
She’ll be waitin’ in the kitchen with pies and warm mittens
Number four, I know you heard this before
Never tell lies on your 1099
Number five, never files your taxes with no new jacks
Even if they promise large amounts tell ‘em bounce
Number six, make sure you file it right or you’ll regret it
If you think the IRS paying you back please forget it
Seven, this rule is so underrated
Receipts for personal and business: completely separated
Business and pleasure don’t mix like writing off tickets to see the Wiz
Unless you workin’ in showbiz
Number eight There should be no filing late for you,
The money spent on your boo can go to tax prep too
Number nine shoulda been number one to me
Make sure you file your taxes before April 15th
If the FEDS thinks It’s missing they ain’t trying to listen
You’ll be sittin’ in San Quinton instead of planning for St. Kitts
Number ten a strong word called an audit
Trust me you can’t afford it,
So get it right when you report it

I got the clientele so trust me I know
They’re gonna want their money rain sleet hail snow
Follow these rules you’ll have mad bread to break up
If not, you may as well forget about vacation
Your girl slapped your temple
She can’t afford make up
Can’t take her to Jamaica unless the Ave
She left you for my man Jacob
He don’t take three weeks to buy half a pack of bacon
Heard she eatin’ duck and quail
While you eatin’ Steak-um’s
Gotta go, gotta go
Sorry ‘bout the break up


Anonymous said...

I love it Alf!!

Afrykan said...


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