Mr. Money Bags

(album: Viva La Kid - 2021)

[The Jackson 5:]
He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hopping and a-bopping and singing his song
All the little birdies on Jaybird Street
Love to hear the robin go

I tell 'em put it on my tab, oh-whoa
'Cause the IRS is coming for my ass, oh-whoa
Fuck them bitches, man, I'm never paying tax, oh-whoa
So much money, call me Mr. Money Bags, M-Mr. Money—

Baby, I'ma ball 'til I fall
I'm steady going off of the wall
Does anybody know who to call?
And let 'em know the bank don't stop
It don't stop, said, "Gimme, gimme—"

More, gimme more, I'm obsessed, uh
Money on the floor, in my drawers, in my chest, uh
I don't do my chores anymore, I'm a mess, uh
Gimme, gimme more, gimme more, you get less, uh
Then I watch it come in abundance
They see me stunting and love it
Green in my hand like a Muppet
Don't give a fuck 'bout a budget
And now my dash at a hunnid
And got hand full of pesos
All this fucking cash like I married Jeff Bezos

Now look at me, I be hotter than a hundred degrees
Now look at me, like a dryer got the heat in my genes, uh
They said, that money doesn't grow on trees, yah
They said, the best things in life are free

I tell 'em put it on my tab, oh-whoa
'Cause the IRS is coming for my ass, oh-whoa
Fuck them bitches, man, I'm never paying tax, oh-whoa
So much money, call me Mr. Money Bags, M-Mr. Money—

Baby, I'ma ball 'til I fall
I'm steady going off of the wall
Does anybody know who to call?
And let 'em know the bank don't stop
It don't stop, said, "Gimme, gimme—"

Dumb muhfucka getting money, feel like Forrest Gump
4 whores in my 4 door, when I'm showing up
"Oh my God" said my payroll, got your papa
Ghost in the garage, while my Phantom's at the opera

Now look at me, I be hotter than a hundred degrees
Now look at me, like a dryer got the heat in my genes, uh
They said, that money doesn't grow on trees, yah
They said, the best things in life are free

I tell 'em put it on my tab, oh-whoa
'Cause the IRS is coming for my ass, oh-whoa
Fuck them bitches, man, I'm never paying tax, oh-whoa
So much money, call me Mr. Money Bags, M-Mr. Money—

Baby, I'ma ball 'til I fall
I'm steady going off of the wall
Does anybody know who to call?
And let 'em know the bank don't stop
It don't stop, said, "Gimme, gimme—"