Money's the Root of All Evil

you want all that money rolling in waves,

dime a dozen chill and can't wait for more,

work from dawn till dusk to dig shallow graves

and checking in all that cash at the store.

you want all that moolah, dough, cha-ching—

I guess whatever helps you sleep at night—

because you want a many bling-bling thing,

all Pepsi diamond glasses, no more Sprite.

you want all those big bang bucks shootin' lights,

never better than in bulgin' pockets—

ready to see all those blazin' gold sights,

time to right your black-and-white eye sockets.

you want that lottery cash-out dream makin'—

well, I think you're in for a rude wakin'.