Money Game, Pt. 3

Let me tell you a story about a boy named Jimmy

One years old, and his first words were, "Mine, mine, gimme"

Two years old, he was walking, three years old, walking quickly

Four years old, he was running 'round the pavements of his city

Five years old, and his daddy told him

"Listen here son, you've got to learn to be a man

A man, he works for what he wants"

Six years old, and he's reading, writing, top of the bunch

And when he's seven, his progression made him student number one

Eight years old and he's praised for unusual grades

Nine, his parents pay for private school to nurture the flame

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, he ascends and ascends

His daddy tells him, "Son, money is the means to all ends"

Fourteen, solving complex mathematic equations

At fifteen, IQ 150, still elevating

Sixteen, he develops complex software code

That detects weaknesses in cyber security protocol

Seventeen, and he sells his vision, keeping the share

Not yet an adult, but he's practically a millionaire

Eighteen, and his daddy tells him, "Now you're a man

This world don't give a damn about you, so take all that you can"

Nineteen, he turns a profit, stocks and shares, invest in product

Twenty, double down deposit, twenty-one, his income rockets

Twenty-two, he learns that truth is just an obstacle to wealth

If you manipulate the data, then the lie will sell itself

Twenty-three, a life of luxury, Cristal and cocaine

Twenty-four, he makes the Forbes list, they're applauding his name

Twenty-five, and his daddy told him, "Listen here, son

While you're sitting in the palace, that don't mean that you won"

Twenty-six, the business shifts, he switches business to arms

He's twenty-seven dealing nuclear and shells in Iran

Twenty-eight, inside the Senate, money bought him a seat

He's twenty-nine, a role of council in the president's suite

And now he's thirty, his daddy says, "You're losing the race

You're just a servant to the king, not even in second place"

Thirty-one, a big manoeuvre for his daddy's approval

Moving imports over borders from the exports out of Cuba

Thirty-two, moving grams, growing kilos to tonnes

He's thirty-three, filling warehouses with powder and guns

Thirty-four, turf war with nobody to stop it

Blind eye from the po-po inside of his pocket

Thirty-five, he gets a call, "I'm sorry, son

It's your father, had a heart attack, I'm sorry, he's gone"

Thirty-six, getting pissed up, abusing this product

Thirty-seven, eyes glazed, disposition demonic

Thirty-eight, with a prostitute, a moment of passion

Heating up a silver spoon and then chasing the dragon

Thirty-nine, getting reckless and hungry for power

Daddy's words still driving him to kill him and devour

He makes a move against the cartel, but the strategy's flawed

They retaliate and leave him in the hospital ward

A bullet buried in his vertebrae, one in his leg

The doctor sighs and says, "I don't think you'll be walking again," Fuck

Let me tell you a story about a boy named Jimmy

He was forty, and he cursed the words, "Mine, mine, gimme"

Forty-one, he wasn't walking, forty-two, not walking quickly

Forty-three, never running 'round the pavement of his city

Forty-four, inside a palace with a mountain of gold

But those riches turn to rubble when perspective evolves

Weighing heavy on his conscience is the value of gold

Lamborghini for a life, trading money for souls

Jimmy followed the code inside the land of the free

Put your hand inside the cookie jar, take more than you need

And his example is exaggerated versions of me

And it's a version of him, and it's a version of she

And it's a version of you, there's no escaping the blame

The way we live is parasitic, fuck the money and fame

Cut the music

This isn't entertainment, this is real life

The way we live is lunacy, community, it declines

We're hyperpolarized, we're always fighting and we divide

Truth is less important than the money that we design?

Money's an invention, politics from our invention

They all come from people's ideas

Did I mention, bored is an invention, law and order fuels the tension

That leads to people killing each other

My solution?

If everything is subject to change

We could build utopias if individuals were taught to use their brains

If we teach kids in schools to always be sheep

And put themselves before the herd, if there's more money for me

Then there's no future I see where the humans survive

We're parasites inside the Petri dish, with cannibal minds

Mould will grow upon the surface, then consumes till it dies

And our fate could be the same without this story to the wise

Forty-five, Jimmy comes home out of the rain

Soaking wet upon a wheelchair, he's been drinking again

He has everything he wants, he has fortune and fame

Such a fortunate fool with an unfortunate fate

With a 45 calibre aimed at his brain

45, a fitting number 'cause his age is the same

Here's the words of his father, "It's such a damn shame"

Then he presses on the trigger of a money game