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, gimmie" 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 gotta 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 Fifteen, IQ a hundred and fifty, still elevating Sixteen, he develops complex software code That detects weaknesses in cyber security protocols Seventeen, and he sells his vision, keeping a 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 deposits, 21, his income rockets 22, he learns that truth is just an obstacle to wealth If you manipulate the data, then the lie will sell itself 23, a life of luxury, crystal and cocaine 24, he makes the Forbes list, they're applauding his name 25, and his daddy tells him, "Listen here, son While you're sitting in that palace, that don't mean that you won" 26, a business shift, he switches business to arms He's 27, dealing nuclear and shells in Iran 28, inside the senate, money bought him a seat He's 29, a role of council in the president's suite And now he's 30, his daddy says "You're losing the race You're just a servant to the king, not even in second place" 31, a big maneuver for his daddy's approval Moving imports over borders from the exports out of Cuba 32, moving grams, growing kilos to tons He's 33, filling warehouses with powder and guns 34, turf war with nobody to stop it Blind eye from the po-po inside of his pocket 35, he gets a call: "I'm sorry, son It's your father, had a heart attack, I'm sorry, he's gone" 36, getting pissed up, abusing his product 37, eyes glazed, disposition demonic 38, with a prostitute, a moment of passion Heating up a silver spoon and then chasing the dragon 39, getting reckless and hungry for power Daddy's words still driving him to kill and devour He makes a move against the cartel, but the strategy's flawed They retaliate and leave him in a hospital ward A bullet buried in his vertebra and 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 40, and he cursed the words: "Mine, mine, give me" 41, he wasn't walking, 42 not walking quickly 43, never running round the pavement of his city 44, 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 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 hyper-polarized, we're always fighting, then we divide Truth is less important than the money that we designed? Money's an invention, politics from our invention They all come from people's ideas, did I mention? Borders an invention, law and order fuel the tension That leads to people killing each other My solution? Is 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 a petri dish with cannibal minds Mold will grow upon a surface, then consumes till it dies And our fate could be the same Without this story to the wise 45, 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 caliber aimed at his brain 45 a fitting number 'cause his age is the same Hears the words of his father: "It's such a damn shame" Then he presses on the trigger of a money game