I Hope I Sell a lot of Records at Christmastime

This song is kind of on the sad side of Christmas

It's about a truck driver away from home on Christmas day

And I sure know how he feels

Ho ho ho, Santa, I would like a pony, a furby, a pony, and

You don't want that stuff, tell Santa you want my record

Who are you? Santa, what's going on?

Hey, lady, security!

Chill, pops, hey, hey, you

Ayo Santa, let's get something clear

I'm half Jewish, I shouldn't even be talking about this time of year

But I'm near tears trying to fund my record label career

While everyone else drinks beer like they at Cheers

Making Nintendo bets on debts from bad record deals

For real, I'm probably next

I'm here sweating my ass off, it's July

But by the time this comes out, I'll be behind my release schedule

Mariah at Christmas will be sold out, why?

I never did nothing bad to nobody

I'm still friends with all my exes who stole money

Don't "aw, honey" me, just give me the money, please (aw, honey)

One of those cards with a pocket for cash

A big stash of check-to-cash

I'll snatch it before you realize

You act rad and come at me all mad

Yo, I've been good, well, you know, pretty good, at least in my mind

Please let me sell a lot of records at Christmas time

(La la la, la la la) there's one Christmas star

Princess superstar (la la la, la la la)

Ho ho ho!

Who you calling a ho?

Look, I'm too poor to afford

Life-size cut out cardboard

Of me poured in a size four

With a floppy Santa hat on the record store floor

Want Ace product placement, listening stations

So when I'm on vacation, I got my face on Raisin

Brands around the nation, I'm impatient

Need my wax to sell by the cases, like Macy's

And God's good graces, I'll be gracious

Just let me retire with these wages

I'm not aimless, I wanna be A-list

Hang out with someone famous

Tell my friends and I we'll all have someone to date us

Like Tom Hanks, Billy Banks, Shabbat Ranks

Or any of the Franks

Stallone, Perdu, Havilong, or Della No-Ru

Bill Gates, too, it's true

All I gotta do is sell through

Go on tour and put out a live record

Real quick like Frampton, old Budew

I got a cold, it's gonna be Christmas soon, and I'm getting old

Hightower, it's me again, how many units we sold?

You mean we didn't go platinum or like gold? And that's my Rolls?

Yo, wait, I'm on a payphone, please don't even try to put me on hold

(La-la-la, la-la-la) there's one Christmas star

Princess superstar (La-la-la, la-la-la)

(Ho ho ho!) who you calling a ho?

(La-la-la, la-la-la) there's one Christmas star

Princess superstar (La-la-la, la-la-la)

Okay, you're all listening to my song, that's a good sign

So either you bought it, it's on the radio, or your friend is saying

"Listen to this funny song," that's fine

But if that's the case, don't even think about the bloody tape

Take a date with your lazy ass, go to Virgin

Or open music, they close eight

And if you don't make it, visit my website, blahblah.com

See old sexy pictures of me, order my record

Buy the clean version for your mom

Sing just one hit, one seasonal favorite

One tear-jerker piece of commercial shit for the ages

Or just enough to get an agent

Watch how fast I tell that, get the cash, get the hell out

Be on VH1, where they now?

Even flame your own body parts

Round, baby fat, and getting down, baby

Don't need to fit in no fancy clothes now, baby

Get the camera crew off my grounds

Call me flash in the pan, a blonde chick who thought she could rhyme

Please, just let me sell a lot of records at Christmas time

Ho ho ho!

Who you calling a ho?