Marrying money ain't funny...
Plastic penguins close in on me, surrounding my old ass…
Reflective chills cut into me like I’m drowning in cold glass.
Fake ass faggits with disposable smiles expecting of me…
To be ok with the racket, go on and act it, be their buddy.
So I smile and raise my flute, reluctantly toast my new life…
Tasting bile, I accept my loot, insincerely honor my new wife.
Take hold of jeweled knife and slice cake instead of wrists…
I thought of suicide, but would rather feed this bitch my fist.
But my greed insists on me making good on this hitch…
Otherwise life depicts me going back to digging that ditch.
Construction forever, or bid farewell to pride and spine…
I feel I deserve better, than to have to hide what’s mine.
But there’s an order here, I’ll get jumped like checkers…
I can’t do any pecking; she’s now in charge of my pecker.
Never will I have any say; I’ll always be told what to do…
The money my wife makes is really what writes the rules.
She’s no fool, she knows she controls and she loves it…
I’m merely a tool she can hold and let her body covet.
So what of it? She’s beautiful and busy; I’ll have free time…
I get to fuck a rich babe dizzy and still drop these rhymes.
Dress better than fools, drive hotter rides than you…
Travel and vacation while you punch a time clock, dude.
It’s true, but a soul regrets the trade for this mess, scam…
Cuz you’ll be your own man while I’m saying “yes ma’am”.
