| I did it all for the money, Lord, it’s what it seems
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| Well, in the world of night terrors it’s, hard to dream
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| Holl’n Cash Rules Everything, let’s call it (C.R.E.A.M.)
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| 'Cause when it rises to the top, you get, the finer things
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| Oceanfronts, rollin blunts, with model chicks
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| And sayin grace over lobster and steak
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| Like, «Please forgive us for ridin Benzes with camera plates»
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| Too busy lookin backwards for jackers to pump my brakes
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| For help sign to symbolize the lives that hunger takes
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| Addicted to the green, if I don’t ball I’ll get the shakes
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| I’d give it all for peace of mind, for heaven’s sake
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| My heart’s so heavy that the ropes that hold my casket breaks
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| 'Cause everything that wasn’t for me, I had to chase
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| I had to chase…
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| They told me that the ends, won’t justify the means
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| They told me at the end, don’t justify the dreams
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| That I’ve had since a child, maybe I’ll throw in the towel
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| Make my (make my) make my (make my) departure from the world
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| Tryin to control the fits of panic
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| Unwritten and unraveled, it’s the dead man’s pedantic
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| Whatever, see it’s really just a matter of semantics
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| When everybody’s fresh out of collateral to damage
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| And, my splayin got me (praying) like a (mantis)
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| I begin to vanish, feel the pull of the blank canvas
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| I’m contemplatin, that special dedication
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| To whoever it concern, my letter of resignation
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| Fadin, back to black, my dark coronation
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| The heat of the day, the long robe of muerte
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| That soul’s in the atmosphere like airplay
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| If there’s a Heaven I can’t find a (Stairway) |