This all just gets crazier by the day. So Wall Street got their 700 Bill (MLK and Cesar Chavez streets should ever be so lucky), and we taxpayers sit, straight up gaffled. And that wasn't enough, so now the Fed is opening up a glad-hand window for commercial paper on top of that! It's like "Fat Cats, Bigger Fish". The real hustlers wear pinstripe suits on top their Air Jordans ("...ain't no hustler on the street can do a whole community...").
"Talking to a black man--who's he? confused, gee,Looking hella bougie
Ass all tight and saditty
Recognized him as the mayor of my city
Who treats young black man like Frank Nitty
Mr Coke said to Mr. Mayor you know we got a process like Ice T's hair
We put up the fund for your election campaign
And oh um waiter can you bring the champagne
A real estate fronts as opportunities arousing
To make some condos out of low income housing..." And continuing along those lines, I can't put it better than the Wu-Tang. Shalon Raekwon the Chef: Yo! yo Meth, where my killer money market yield at? First of all, where the f--k is my yield at, man?
Method man: Yo son, I don't got that yield, son
Chef: How you ain't got no yield when I let you hold it man?
Meth: Yo NGZ came over to have 40s and blunts, kid. The fund just broke the buck, son..
Chef: C'mon that ain't got nothing to do with my bond man, c'mon go head with that sh...
Meth: C'mon Man I'll buy you four killer high-yield energy futures, man [urgent knocking on the door] Chef: Open the door man, what the f--- man? Yo what? What's up?
Ghostface Killa: Yo, Yo god, word is bond, Yo! Bear Stearns just got busted in his head two times, god!
Meth: Word to mother
Ghostface: Word life god! You know f---ing Bear Stearns from f---ing 212, god!
Meth: Yeah
Ghostface: That NGH just got bucked! NGZ in the blackland god, word is bond, came through to the suburbs on zero down payment mortgages, god, from out of nowhere god! Word is bond, I'm coming to get my chop shop reserve, god. Word is bond, CRAZY sell orders just went the f--- off, god! Lehmann Bros laying there like a f---ing newborn f---ing baby, god! Word Up!
Meth: Is he dead?
Ghostface: Is he dead? What the f--- do you mean is he f---ing dead god? F--- you think?!
The NGH laying there with his f---ing...all types of f---ing red ink coming out of his f---ing books
U-God: EEZEE EEZEE EEZEE DEAD?
Ghostface: Yo god, what's up god? Its the god, god! Word is bond, yo I'm ready to f---ing go open outcry. I'm ready to hit the hedge, god. What's up?
Chef: Yo lets get out and do what we got to do, god. Yo. We out?
Ghostface: Its the god, god f--k that, man.
Meth: They probably sunk the money markets!
Ghostface, Chef, U-God: What the f---?
Ghostface: The f--k is he talking about man?
Chef: F--k outta here B! Of course all we need to complete the picture is Paulson coming through like GZA to sing it for the top of the upcoming ballot. "Fed in da front: let your feet stomp. Traders on the left: rag sh-- to death. Hoods on the right: wild for the night..." "Obama's coming through. The outcome is critical.
To dig us out this mess, 'd be sorta like a miracle on 34th street;
outta deep Wassila came Palin;
The b---h caught a fitz like Gerald-ine Ferraro, who's feeling sorrow
'Cause the ho didn't win but the sun will still come out tomorrow
And shine shine shine like 409. Here comes the drunk Bush with a quart of Ballantine..." Umm, I guess it doesn't come more raw than the words of the Wu, and raw is just about right, right now. But for a much-needed laugh, check out Wu-Tang Office, an awesome derivation of the original skit I parodied.