Dear Santee, I wrote you but still ain't callin'
I left my cell, my pager, and my Discogs profile at the bottom
I sent two records by Al Green and Jay Som, you must not-a got 'em
There probably was a problem at the post office or somethin'
Sometimes I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em
But anyways, fuck it, what's been up? Man how's your daughter?
My girlfriend's pregnant too, I'm 'bout to be a father
If I have a daughter, guess what I'm a call her?
I'ma name her Anthology
I read about your warped Blue Note set too I'm sorry
I had a friend bankrupt himself over a variant of Tabakin
I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your Santa, man
I even got you underground shit that Karen O did with Dangermouse
I got you a Fiona Apple poster and a 7" by Beach House
I got you the podcast Storf did for Motown too, that shit was phat
Anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me back,
Just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan
This is San'