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lirik lagu mighty dollar – payday monsanto

d*mn, i ain’t blessed this old mic in a minute…
what’s goin’ on girl?
how ‘ya been?
y’know…
i don’t give a f*ck…
what people may say…
to me…
you’re 1 in 6.9 billion…

“i’d trade all the diamonds, for one sweet kiss from you”*

yes…
all the diamonds…
for one sweet kiss…

whenever i wrench this priceless device, i try to make things concise, yes & nice, despite them tendencies to wanna brag & boast, i’m obligated to promote nothin’ but good…
try to do what i can in this stagnant hope, spark a spliff in the whip, take a drag & smoke. ride around with canned goods & bags of coats, for the less*fortunatе folks up in the hood. you know, i know a ton of cats’d do alot of stuff, still at the end of thе day, yo they feel it’s not enough. establishment provide a paper, that ain’t god they trust, and most religion been bought the f*ckin’ farm. when confronted with poverty crime, & death, your so*called leaders suddenly go blind & deaf, but once it hits suburbia, no time is left, war gets waged, everybody’s up in arms…
i represent the 10% upon the lunatic fringe, who insist insurrection is soon to begin, some talk amongst ourselves, and yes we contend that it already happened, and well…i’m one of them. revolution, i believe is in it’s infancy, fragile so we must handle carefully, understand every little intricacy, innocent casualties, that’s a sheer nightmare to me. people please, keep collateral damage at*ease, let them dehumanize you, they can murder you with ease. some drums permit rarities, kicks & snares appease my nostrils, right along with the air i breathe. but, it’s unwise dealin’ with middle*men enterprised, incorporated invisibly, recognize the lies that lie behind they eyes, they hide behind disguise, ritually. like them jimmy swaggart cats, that front religiously, but obviously lack the strict discipline that is the key. so, they block like shots by mookie blaylock, & the doors to they knowledge of truth. i had all my networth in a hefty single, now i’m lavish & glad, like i sold a catchy jingle down on madison ave, but i hit the super seven, with some numbers i got from psychic sue, 3.2 million…f*ck you…

sometimes i get the feelin’ the only thing that matters is the dollar…(dollar)
most of the times you can bet that i’m mighty sure…(mighty sure)
there’s not alot of things that most wouldn’t do, for the mighty dollar…(mighty dollar)
and, if they corporate peers don’t wanna adhere, they’ll rob from the poor…(they’ll rob from the poor)

yeah…
who police, police on these streets, as the drama increase? once they got you on a leash, it’s like llama & geese come out the crease, after the progress cease, you’ll get fleeced. it’s like priests tryin’ to process peace, amongst beasts, though it’s nice in modern life, trife, it don’t suffice, plans ain’t right nix them b*tches, like nixon they lice. just like wires get spliced, and tires get sliced, (uh*huh) ‘ya liars get diced…cross rivals precise, ’cause false idols entice, is it vital you beat your bible, in the title of christ? you can go into a booth, and repeal any sin? if that’s the truth, my rhymes heal like benny hinn. i step through like sneferu, my queen reign like isis, while you worshipin’ trite statues, we in a crisis. let’s be accurate here, for real don’t fight it, before you measure my schl*ng, at least get it excited. so, you can get the true perception of the depth & width, i got the girth of the whole universe, the earth used to be a perfect circle, once upon a time 9 out of 10 christians believed in miracles. now, they bow down to some lobbyists, now the cash cow’s the embodiment of godliness. my deity is créme de la créme, i thank g*o*d for m*o*m, this joint here’s not clearchannel compliant, so if you peepin’ this, it’s probably through a mutual client. f*ck the fcc, i do what i wanna do, f*ck the radio, them dj’s, & they uncle, too. this robotic democracy is electric as f*ck, i got somethin’ for ‘ya program directors to suck. the truth is sort of chillin’, like the slaughter of a quarter million civilian men, women, & children…
sometimes i get the feelin’ the only thing that matters is the dollar…(dollar)
most of the times you can bet that i’m mighty sure…(mighty sure)
there’s not alot of things that most wouldn’t do, for the mighty dollar…(mighty dollar)
and, if they corporate peers don’t wanna adhere, they’ll rob from the poor…(they’ll rob from the poor)

*joni james * “wishing ring” (1952)

- payday monsanto

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