Money

Money
Want to kill the motherfucker who made it
I could with some more, y'all just waste it
Fuck the buildings, fuck cars,
when we can go tribal and hunt prey, shit
Become king of the jungle, cuz we've lost it
Born into a world without access to my throne, bitch
Y'all sitting in my seat,
when I wanna hunt, selling me prepackaged meat,
Dad was born in africa,
with green hills and no pigs coming after yah,
which motherfucker found petrol and oil?
To keep money flowing spill blood on home soil
How do I feel about the world?
Fuck the world, I'm living in my brain
Come join me in here you'll no longer be sane,
just a jibbering mess, not tactically verbal like I,
the poetic equivalent of jamming my finger in your eye
I ask my dealer how long he's gonna be,
he says: "Fuck the cash, pay me verbally",
so I say, "the problem of our situation
is that I want that bag of green, I'm only fucking asian,
brothers in the hood getting banged up at the police station,
over a plant, that should be legalised for the nation,
but the government would end up taxing the shit out of it,
as a form of control, sedate ourselves and chillax abit,
I realise that one word isn't powerful,
The sequence of words in context is unparalleled,
cuz when it comes to records I'm not trying to sell,
I'm just trying to write out inner demons and personal hell.