Paper

[Intro]
So you think that money is the root of all evil…
Have you ever asked what is the root of money?

[Verse 1]
Yo, he took me out the shoebox, along with two rocks
He tuck me in a pocket I felt the tip of a new Glock
Walked down the block to the corner
He took me out the pocket and he paid for marijuana
Now I’m rollin’ with his homie I don’t know or understand
No instrument in hand but he got me in a band
Took us to the crib we all sat on the bed
And when he count us up I think we closer to a grand
Man, you seen the way that his face look
He take a picture and put this shit up on facebook
[?] on pictures but they ain’t [?]
And so he put me with a bunch of singles now we in the club stuntin’
He pull us out in front of, front of this girl’s eye
She comin’ closer her hands was rubbin’ her inner thighs
She dancin’ on the pole, he throw me in the air
Feel like I touch the sky, flyin’ without a care
I’m comin’ down, now I land somewhere on her stomach
And then she put me on her skin and she let me touch it
I think I love her but it don’t last
She put me in her [?] and stuffed me in a bag
But when she pulled me out it was a different day
And when I seen her I could barely recognize her face
She had a hoodie on smilin’ in the office of admissions
Hand me to this lady sayin’ "this for my tuition"

[Interlude]
Money is a tool of exchange, which can’t exist
Unless there are goods produced and men able to produce them
Money is the material shape of the principle that men who wish to deal with one another
Must deal by trade and give value for value

[Verse 2]
I sittin’ inside of the envelope, eh yo it’s dark as hell
They put us face to face, Ben Franklin know me well
And Lincoln sittin’ in the front say he can’t see me
George Jefferson, now where’s Weezy?
I felt a finger that was younger than the others
Slowly slide me out the top and he quickly close the cover
He’s told the lady that he late he leavin’ out for class
I wonder cause I didn’t see a book inside his bag
I see he lied to them, the secrets hide in him
He probly robbin’ them cause they already robbin’ him
We leave away from college, I’m still inside his pocket
I hear a man speakin’, preachin’ about a prophet
They put me in a plate and plate and took me to the alter
And count us in the back, the process like the projects
The priest gave us to a party with a lotta tea
They always talkin’ bout freedom and how it used to be
They gave me to this politician and I listen while he say
Cuttin’ funding for the children
And in a hotel room he rolled me up and passed me to his escort
Put me to a nose, did a line he took the next snort
I loosen up and I started thinking
Them dead presidents got more power than the president that’s living
He left me on the table, I’m guessing he forgot
Housekeeper took me put me in a shoebox

[Outro]
Money is not a tool of the moochers, who claim your product by tears
Or of the looters who take it from you by force
Money is made possible only by the men who produce
Is this what you consider evil?