Lyric

 

Strange times we're living in, panic and hysteria

Poor man learn the rich man don't care for ya

Narcissist mindsets spread like malaria

Sit back and watch the show, America!

Britain split through fickle shit

A government of hypocrites

These counterfeit politicians sit

In parliament, not adequate

Needlessly bleeding resources all dry

Turn a blind eye if it means a pay rise

"Oh what a shame it would be I would die"

If Number 10 Downing Street burned in a fire

Only joking, only messing, don't be stressing

I'm a peaceful adolescent, there's no need to be unpleasant Write my thesis in a rhyme scheme

To analyze the brain

While my fingers on the trigger of a money game

Oh rain, rain, rain, rain

A storm, it comes our way

And those who rise through distorted lies

Poisoning the veins

But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame

It's easier to blame

But point the mirror at ourselves

We're all part of this old money game

(This old money game)

(This old)

Money is a game and the ladder we climb

Turns a saint into a sinner with his finger in crime

I'll break it down for you motherfuckers line by line

This is business economics in a nursery rhyme

She sells seashells on a seashore

But the value of these shells will fall

Due to the laws of supply and demand

No one wants to buy shells 'cause there's loads on the sand

Step 1: you must create a sense of scarcity

Shells will sell much better if the people think they're rare, you see

Bare with me, take as many shells as you can find and hide 'em on an island stockpile 'em high

until they're rarer than a diamond

Step 2: you gotta make the people think that they want 'em

Really want 'em, really fuckin want 'em

Hit 'em like Bronson

Influencers, product placement, featured prime time entertainmen

If you haven't got a shell then you're just a fucking waste man

Three: it's monopoly, invest inside some property, start a corporation, make a logo, do it properly

"Shells must sell", that will be your new philosophy

Swallow all your morals they're a poor man's quality

Four: expand, expand, expand, clear forest, make land, fresh blood on hand

Five: why just shells? Why limit your self? She sells seashells, sell oil as well!

Six: guns, sell stocks, sell diamonds, sell rocks, sell water to a fish, sell the time to a clock

Seven: press on the gas, take your foot off the brakes, Run to be the president of the United States

Eight: big smile mate, big wave that's great Now the truth is overrated, tell lies out the gate

Nine: Polarize the people, controversy is the game

It don't matter if they hate you if they all say your name

Ten: the world is yours, step out on a stage to a round of applaus

You're a liar, a cheat, a devil, a whore

And you sell seashells on the seashore

Rain, rain, rain, rain

A storm, it comes our way

And those who rise through distorted lies

Poisoning the veins

But we like to point the blame, blame, blame, blame It's easier to blame

But point the mirror at ourselves

We're all part of this old money game

(This old money game)

(This old)