1. Wait till I get my money right, then you can’t tell me nothing right
    you broke as a joke motherfucker talking slick ass like you got something
    to offer me, but nooooooo, you just keep talking, asking for free services
    with the offer of one day glorious rewards like I’ve never seen before and
    I fall every time never questioning why you are always broke as a joke
    who tokes coke for a living from season to season never down to the wire
    it’s that time of year again for you to come near and bring up my fears of
    being broke as a joke told over and over again till it loses its hold on the listener
    set me free so I can go be a busy bee who makes green leaves that make me feel
    like a king of my own castle with no hassle but silence when I want
    free to go and pee as  I want with security making sure I’m never free enough
    to be got by peasants who sought after what I worked so hard to inherit by being
    born with a golden platinum silver spoon in my mouth entertained by clowns
    through windows to the minds of writers who shine brighter which each passing
    cycle of the moon, its been 6 months since I forgot the plot of the last story you told
    here’s some more resources to pour on the salt that is the wound of dreams deferred
    for one more hour and 30 minutes to dream of fame or games of slaves rushing
    to and fro for survival is adapting to the stimulus of reality I’m awake long enough
    to see the seed of my last name grow up enough to defend themselves
  2. money does not grow on trees does not grow on trees or leaves that fall with ease on all who plead for it not grow on trees or freely give itself to those who seem to think to grow on trees even if planted in the earth and fed with the seed of greed on trees leaves fall incessantly from season to season except the money tree, it bleeds trees freely giving all who sit under it shade from the sun’s rays to play money does not grow on trees paying ways to pave streets with gold thrones who
    does not grow on trees to own land filled with sand reclaimed from the ocean boats sold not grow on trees to those who owed from ancestral debts blessed and cursed on all children who call forth grow on trees to spread diseases catching the user indebtedly to pay for cures to fall on trees or knees begging trees please reveal money does not grow on trees to be used for free does not grow on trees to believe in me or not grow on trees to defeat the weak
  3. for the love of money more people will try something than nothing for envy drives the economy to flourish faster than if we were all content with the moment and things we have driven by material ambition to further our goals of being better than we were before in the race to be the best because the next guy is working twice as hard and as smart to be the center of attention in the world with no shortage of information about how we are doing it wrong and why we should try another way self help explosive directions selling books faster than marketing tools can be created to brand the mind with ideas of fear of losing out on the next best thing we never knew we needed but have to have so we can be smarter than the next guy who is working half as hard but sitting on a beach somewhere before the time we planned to be retired faster than our parents who strived so hard to make sure we learned something and could stand on our own as long as it was never alone away from them so some day when they are old we could take care of their homes for show to the world screaming out loud saying “look, I made it!! on my own back I strove and drove myself to success, now give me a fat check so I can go back home and show off”
  4. cooler rulers fooled her users into thinking of bruisers’ choosers who killed faster than man
    can think of ways to plan a fan rotating in place with trays for slaves to pave the way for freddie to
    be ready to tell teddy his very next version of selling ad to parks full of cars for rides to jackson packed in like sardines in cans made like tanks to withstand the bend of time rusting all poor minds to pour out guts on the couch to the mind of the man who listens with pen and pad taking notes dressed in white coats to gloat to his peers about who has the worst goat of a patient and throats spilling out all thoughts dressed in blazers to look professional regardless of the hot air blowing hype right in front of the observing eye seeing all lies fly high light star bright shining higher than fire sire desires more wine wives line up in time serve lord have mercy
  5. gotta have it or will die trying till riding high above the clouds in private ties with laps that dance to the tune of sounds of gold clinking bars and glasses filled with fizzy charms highlighting the celebration of our ingenious inklings to make the world our own, conquered, our throne, recognized every where we go, complaining at the loss of anonymity, we can own anything we think of, come, go and think as we please, saying whatever we want with the justification backed by power to say no, or yes to changing the plight of people less who have not worked as hard or thought as far as we see into the future, or born randomly into shitty situations, trapped in the inheritance of their father’s legacies of bad decisions based on through traditional cultural religious tribes who fight for the right to be right at all times, learning nothing but the social welfare receiving blessings for breathing, how we love to work hard to keep track of the things we never had but now have so we can flex, front, strut or experience whatever we feel like, yet told not to chase the one thing we know can change a million things in a  heartbeat, stuck in the dance between what we want and what we need, because survival is real to the dying, how many have tried, it cannot buy happiness they tell us, but we want to experience it for ourselves, that never stopped us from thriving, shunning math designed to help us count and transact or paper created to say thanks for acts giving in servicing exchange for goods to be used
  6. In the name of the almighty dollar, pipe down, sit down and listen to a lesson in life, learn something from reality, strife gets you nowhere but nominated to be the patron saint of all slaves who work hard till sun baked and dark never recognized by their brothers who work inside, learning to think and read and things of the mind, the psychologists who dream of poetry written in the skies while the outside sing songs of life of the fathers playing in the skies and women’s thighs tricking them into disguise to give birth to demi gods who shun deity to become men with unfair advantage in olympic sport to achieve feats of which we sing songs and tell stories to weak links that some day they could be dreams we sleep about and cheer on for the next person to fall from grace so we can say that motherfucker cheated in trying to be God who set him up to be the goat who floats only on boats created by machines who make no mistakes ever, except when programmed to do just that yet philly bred butterly love for us to eat bread that sings songs to our senses forgetting the hunger within is never satisfied we have respite from the plight of man, drugged up while sirens sing songs that lead to eternal damnation our flight is enough for us to write this down so future generations can make the same mistakes by reading the book and doing everything in it to the letter without question because we all know the truth is true if the book says so, who are we to judge In nomine Patris et fillii et Spiritus Sancti
  7. don’t believe the hype your life is right for the picking if you value what you add to the statute of limitations for giving more than you are asked off the right time to try hard is right now if you work smart and add that to the pack you start with you can end right, ask your future self questions only you can answer don’t take what you can’t give back to the master faster than he takes it out of your bank account for late overdraft fees to buy snacks you don’t need to eat, you’re too fat to move fast for your feet won’t look back when it’s too late to eat, ask the snake who leads when it’s stomach is too full to move enough through the woods to conquer its fears of you who lose everytime you play the game without reading the rules fools don’t know gold even if it shines your shoes to move through the puzzle glued together for you to see the truth assume you would be the best person with a blessing to teach everyone the lesson they haven’t learnt for a millennia, who says counting is for suckers who keep books better than the person who lives cool to brood when nothing is going his way you say we play to pay our way to the top and stop short of that which we fought so hard and bought but forgot our pains hooray you say, hooray, hooray today is the day we gain our fame
  8. doctor doctor how much to pay to take the pain away since the death of saddam hussein who paved the way with slaves told to fold the gold for nova rover to stumble over kentucky soldiers who move bolder as the grow older fearing the stages of grief for bothering a thief who sleeps with one eye open on revolvers doors flung wide open with guns drawn ready to die for the cause of God sent ambitious decisions to give lives as sacrifice for wives who died before being touched by the hand of love or the glove of the strong who poured out their hearts mixed with lies in design to achieve the goals of the bold who told stories to all who would listen and pissed in a pot with nothing to shit in yet king of the world jungles rumble with sounds of bombs and guns drawn for shots fired inside the heart of the mind tired from running without sleep to see kids jumping without him, their father missing in action needing tinactin for bad feet stuck in acting that part of the breadwinner who judges the sinner for being a cleaner when his peers are winners who make bread and sardines for dinner, the west won the war and the rest get the luck of the draw begging for pennies and wendy’s to blessings on blessings, let’s celebrate these blessings unless we are destined for war or more to come than the things we lost in the war
  9. gotta have a million dollars before I die or die by trial by fire to die without a dime in bank accounts designed to track the hounds who catch all who run freely with wills of minds to act the part of the greatest pound for pound heavyweight fighter of all time who knows the power or what it is to kill a man, lottery money filling hearts from time to time wishing that they could quit the job they picked for what will give them misery or happiness or dreams of more for what they fought or once forgot leaves them lost and worse forlorn with children seeing dreams unfinished buildings spilling into their lives for play is all they want to stay young and dependent on someone else for all they got, little princes and queens are spoilt and taught to want and want till wanting never ceases as the mind is never pleased by anything but seeds that grow into money trees as we sleep on beds of feathered pill weathered still by tethered mills to the ground pouring grain in the time of starvation for all to eat, free willy so we can all go silly on welfare all looking well dressed in new gear for new years’ to break resolutions and avoid revolution with bloodspill, the blood screams with still ears left on tears of scars had on backs of the bear who fears to strike when bulls rule the world to make mad decisions of incisions with precision tears injected
  10. the elusive carrot on a stick
    chasing for eons and eons and eons
    generations unborn chasing the great reward
    the holy grail of lore
    begging, wanting, scraping for more
    Someday my prince will come
    save us all in prime galore
    hopefully we never have to work
    just sit still and watch as others do with bore
    that which we want so we can call the shots
    feeling better than all who sit to think their way through problems
    discovering value on the way to the avenue of the streets
    paved with gold or deceit or something shiny beneath the feet
    of all running in the race with rats to get to the end of life
    superfast, who moves faster than the speed of light
    or superman grasping at the bleeding sight of children born in the worst plight
    randomly selected to be stuck in a chasing dream after
    the elusive carrot on a stick
    dangled just far enough beyond reach
    if you push just, just, just
    just a little bit harder, a little bit more
    you can get there in the end of your years
    just in time to settle on a beach chair
    and cheer with jest in your ears
    well done my good and faithful servant
    you have earned the rest of your years
    now rest in humble bent back
    stretched out on bare back mares
    chasing the elusive carrot on a stick

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