Cooking up the books my friend, was 'sposed to make you lots of green
Now you press those plates with iron
Your cell ain't got no limousine
You aren't your cellmates' only toy, but his favorite one it seems
You began to cry when he probed your thighs
The bank could hear your screams

Honcho was an Enron boy, remorse as slow as Christmas deals
His poor old mom she crapped her pants
When all the honest workers squealed
Honcho found the catch you know, in a courthouse down in Texas, yo
The jury heard his lying words, and so now away he goes

All the virile inmates say, that they can have him any day
They like to see him dip and sway, when they find him in SuppHose

Shifty he just flings the food, and rights wrongs when he needs to
The shit that Honcho bit down on, it came straight from Shifty's bum
The day old Honcho caught the croup, Shifty'd shit into his soup
Where he wiped the bread is low, a saint nobody knows

Wardens tell how Honcho fell, Shifty's laughin hopes he rots in hell
The morgue is quiet and Honcho's cold
And his whore-y end's been told
Honcho feeds the worms it's true, but they'll get fat on World Com too
They surely did what the others do, now it's getting bold

All the federal judges say, they could indict them any day
They only thought they could slip away, out of blindness I suppose

A few grey federal judges say, they could indict them any day
They only let them go so long, because of long lines I suppose