Girls just wanna have fund$

Don’t call it gold-digging

when you’ve built kingdoms on our unpaid labor—

our bodies, our patience,

our silence.

We don’t want your “good morning” texts,

your three-dollar compliments,

your half-evolved promises

that crack under the weight of equality.

We want rights.

Real ones.

The kind that don’t expire

when you’re uncomfortable.

The kind that don’t come

with a side of condescension

or a tip jar labeled be grateful.

We want peace.

And passports.

And payrolls without pink taxes.

We want to rest without being hunted,

to speak without being interrupted,

to say no

without a eulogy.

No, we’re not your rehab.

We’re not your excuse.

We’re not here to audition

for the honor of splitting rent.

You want our attention?

Try direct deposit.

Because girls—

Girls just wanna have fund$.

Power, paper, legacy.

Not your love if it comes with lectures,

not your ring if it’s a leash.

We’re busy building empires

with every dollar

you thought we wouldn’t

we couldn’t earn.