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