Give me the fortune, keep the fame," said my man Louis
I agreed, know what he mean because we live the truest lie
I asked him why we follow the law of the bluest eye
He looked at me, he thought about it
Was like, "I'm clueless, why?"
The question was rhetorical, the answer is horrible
Our morals are out of place and got our lives full of sorrow
And so tomorrow comin later than usual
Waitin' on someone to pity us
While we findin beauty in the hideous
They say money's the root of all evil but I can't tell
YouknowhatImean, pesos, francs, yens, cowrie shells, dollar bills
Or is it the mindstate that's ill?

A lot of people don't understand the true criteria of things
Can't just accept the appearance
Have to get the true essence





Not strong
Only aggressive
Not free
We only licensed
Not compassioniate, only polite
Now who the nicest?
Not good but well behaved
Chasin after death
so we can call ourselves brave?
Still livin like mental slaves