paroles de chanson Money Game, Pt. 3 - Ren

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