You've got yourself a living,
Big house on top the hill,
Yachts and jets and sporty cars,
My ain't that a thrill,
But I know a secret you havent told,
Your spoils your riches, your cache of gold,
Can you tell me where you get it from?
Your 'rents ain't rich, you got no job,
And you're far from CEO,
Your hands don't twitch, no atheltic itch,
so how'd you build the whole?
Well I've figured it out, with-out no doubt,
You're a crook who doesn't steal.
Don't need no fence, just an artist's sense,
To paint them dollar bills.
Caught in a lie, ain't that grand?
Life broken down, pathetic young man,
We live in a world, tinted green, greed based society,
Well, you know what?
Cause from my point of view,
You've carrying a few, burdons ain't that right?
All that stress, what a mess,
Though the smile's such a sight,
Feel that sin infesting you?
Yea, I know, feels pretty good.
Hope to join you one day, though I gotta say,
All my art's done right n' true.