NM Hip Hop

hip-hop

Lyrics

Northern man, northern man, tell me how it all began. I’m on the edge of my seat here, popcorn
in hand, waiting for the tale of the century. You see, I’m just a humble wannabe investor, trying
to navigate the treacherous waters of the CSE, where every stock tip sounds like a sweet
serenade but often ends up being a siren song leading me straight to the rocks. I need to know, I
need to know how to sniff out a scam, because right now, I feel like I’m in a circus and the
clowns are juggling my hard-earned cash.
Investing on the venture? Oh, what a grand adventure indeed! It’s like a rollercoaster ride
designed by a sadistic engineer. You climb, you scream, and just when you think you’re about to
hit a peak, you plummet into the abyss of regret. And the mining industry? Don’t even get me
started. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, except the needle is covered in rust and the
haystack is on fire. Every time I try, it makes me cry. I mean, who knew that digging for gold
could feel more like digging my own grave?
Northern man, northern man, I’m begging you! How did you manage to navigate this minefield?
What’s your secret? How do you invest with no regret? How do you dodge the bullets that are
these so-called “investment opportunities”? I’m all ears, my friend. The first thing you do, you
say, is find out what is true. Well, that’s a tall order, isn’t it? In a world where truth is as slippery
as a greased pig at a county fair, how do I even begin?
Don’t believe the pumpers, you warn. They can sometimes be robbers. Ah, yes, the pumpers!
Those charming folks who tell you that their stock is the next big thing, while their bank
accounts swell like balloons at a birthday party. They’re like the used car salesmen of the stock
market, and I’m the poor sap who just walked onto the lot thinking I’d get a sweet deal on a
shiny new convertible. If I had a dollar for every time I fell in love with a stock, I’d have enough
money to buy a nice little island and retire far away from this madness. D M me and we will talk,
you say? Sure, I’ll just slide into your DMs like a desperate teenager trying to get a date.
But here’s the kicker: don’t be afraid to take a loss. It’s all about opportunity cost, you say.
Opportunity cost? Is that what we’re calling it now? I thought it was just my bank account
slowly draining like a bad plumbing job. So, I’m supposed to embrace my losses like they’re
long-lost friends? “Oh, hello, Loss! It’s so good to see you again! Come in for tea!”
Let me tell you my secret, you say, how to invest with no regret. Well, lay it on me! Random web
searches are not due diligence, you proclaim, as if I didn’t already know that. They’re meant to
create a mystery, like a bad detective novel where the plot twist is that I’m the one who ends up
broke. They appeal to your sense of greed, and make your portfolio bleed. What a poetic way to
describe my financial demise!
Focus on the share structure, you advise.