| Yeah, my name is Michael, landed and titled | 
| Think of a crime and it probably was my fault | 
| But now, I cleaned up my act, call me Lysol | 
| I used to pull off heists then I got out of the cycle | 
| I wasn’t stopping 'til I got the bills | 
| For a property in Rockford Hills | 
| But now, I rock the mill’s and the mansion | 
| Looking for the answers at the bottom of a bottle | 
| As I pop the pills, for reals | 
| I live a life of luxury | 
| But trust me, I’m the man it sucks to be | 
| Look and see, my family’s dysfunctional | 
| Sometimes, I feel like I really want to punch them all | 
| My son’s a ball of blubber, about as awful as my daughter | 
| Or her mother or her mother’s other lover | 
| Motherfucker | 
| Suffering a midlife crisis | 
| But have you seen how ridiculous my wife is? | 
| You shouldn’t be surprised what the mind of a man does | 
| To hide from the madness of Amanda’s | 
| Even my analyst is struggling to handle this | 
| So, it’s about time I went back to being the protagonist | 
| Yeah! | 
| There’s only one philosophy I follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar | 
| There’s only one philosophy I follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar | 
| Yo, they call me Franklin, I’m all about the Benjamins | 
| I spend on anything that’s got a revving engine in | 
| I never had a family except my gang and me | 
| I was educated at the Hard Knock Academy | 
| But gang-banging was an absolute calamity | 
| They handcuffed and chucked me in the slammer | 
| It was agony | 
| Now, I’m free, being a repo man is my reality | 
| But on this salary, I can’t afford a calorie | 
| And as I can’t gather enough food to eat | 
| From Vespucci Beach, then I might resort to felony | 
| Felling an enemy or anyone offending me | 
| Befriending people who inevitably will depend on me | 
| But if I end up in a feud with Lamar | 
| I’ll lick off his top like a Cuban cigar | 
| I’m the dude with the car, a superstar | 
| In a street fight, I’ll pull off a Hadouken, rah! | 
| You might find me in the strip club, bruh | 
| But I didn’t come to get my dick sucked, nah | 
| I’m a hip-hop star | 
| Blood? | 
| Crip? | 
| Not moi | 
| I’m the top dog, sit Chop, ha | 
| It’s like this, it’s like this, look | 
| There’s only one philosophy I follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar | 
| There’s only one philosophy I follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar | 
| Rah! | 
| My name is Trevor | 
| I live inside a trailer in the desert | 
| Where I blaze the crystal method | 
| This unhygienic lifestyle only takes a little effort | 
| But the cash I had, I’ve gone and wasted it, I’m reckless | 
| I haven’t got a pound to my name | 
| So, it’s time to get out of the County of Blaine | 
| I used to fly a plane, now, I just fry my brain | 
| Howling at the moon, you can assume that I’m insane | 
| Like my neighbour Ron, I don’t know what page he’s on | 
| Paranoid conspiracies, I really believe his brain is gone | 
| Any plan I make, something has to spoil it | 
| I can’t fit this fuckin' foot down the toilet | 
| I’ve got a penchant for throttling a pensioner | 
| Then grabbing a can of petrol and notching up the temperature | 
| I’ve got a nervous twitch that’s quite violent | 
| So, I’m doing suicidal stunts in my Y-Fronts | 
| I fell out with Michael | 
| We never quite saw eyeball to eyeball | 
| But now it’s time for us to reunite | 
| Grab the shotties and the rifles | 
| And set the town alight in a giant fireball | 
| There’s only one philosophy I follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar | 
| There’s only one philosophy I follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar | 
| Yo, the three of us are so grand theft-ing | 
| The best in the biz, no damn question | 
| Man, it’s sexy, straddling a jet-ski | 
| Ramming it at jet-speed | 
| Get me? | 
| What you doing in our neck of the woods? | 
| You best be checking the HUD | 
| 'Cause in a second your blood will be flecking the mud | 
| When we bust you by the lip | 
| Take all your money and then customize a whip | 
| How can we justify this shit? | 
| We must be kind of sick | 
| That’s why we keep the piece, that’s the most trusty, by the hip | 
| So, pull the map out while we pull the strap out | 
| Pow, pow 'til the po-po go and black out | 
| Dropping from the chopper then we grab a couple hostages | 
| We’re hot, dog; | 
| sausages | 
| We trade stocks and cribs, take shots at pricks | 
| Bury their heads in the dirt; | 
| ostriches | 
| The unholy trinity in your vicinity | 
| Sinning with a seriously symbiotic synergy | 
| We’re the three similarly sinister G’s | 
| Each sending the cinema screen into the cemetery | 
| Cynically with no sympathy seen | 
| So, simmer down and listen to this symphony, please | 
| To put it simply, police are just some pimply sleazes | 
| We’ll pimp as we please and so we send them to sleep | 
| Yes! | 
| There’s only one philosophy we follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar | 
| There’s only one philosophy we follow | 
| And that’s the mighty American dollar |