More Money More Violence Lyrics

Mr. Hitchcock, why do you always make mystery films

Life is a big mystery, as it always has been

I think people are intrigued by mystery

to find out about things they don't know anything about

That's a mystery, welcome to my world

Trapped inside a wishing well, I wish you well

Failure's not an option, nigga, well can't you tell

Hot slugs and bad blood, man this is hell

That's why they call it Burnside

I never failed, never did it, never will

Haters snorting' coke lines, exes poppin' pills, life's a thrill

Too many coaster rides, I'm a rider plus a roller

Leave em' posterized, never doubted I'm the coldest

I'm just polarized, heart chill where Santa stay

Don't need a slate, paper chasin', got my mind racin'

Like A-Day, put my freedom on the line, what

Like MLK, Martin Luther could relate as I display

All the dreams in my speeches, can't trust a soul

Too many leeches, never the type to ask for features

I lost my glow, slowly I'ma work it up again

Now watch me blow, she fuckin' me, I fuck a friends

Yeah, that's how it go

More money, more violence

More killers, more sirens

Man, the city that I'm from, everybody doin' drugs

They love to carry guns and bust slugs

Anybody try to front, they gettin' shoved in the mud

You claim that you get fly, but you get squashed like a bug

America the great, America the thug

And still I'll never be enough, so what's up, what's up

We in the belly of the beast, in the middle of the ghetto

Watch em play me like a cello, got the pedal to the metal

Say I'm racin' with the devil, but my engine gotta tremble

I'm no angel, I speak in different angels

The world won't understand you, these cops just apprehend you

The judge tryna remand you, to make you an example

They give you more than ample

Time over crimes, involved with pumpin' dimes

They forcin' harder times, to make you pump your nine

Now they got you locked inside to take over your mind

It's a battle for your soul, they pray for your demise

Not sure if you'll survive, but they tell you you'll be fine

Just an FYI for the FBI, everybody gotta die

Bullets fly like them pigeons in the sky

Once you try, we gon' have to ride

Time for war, just another genocide and set it off

What's up

More money, more violence

More killers, more sirens

Man, the city that I'm from, everybody doin' drugs

They love to carry guns and bust slugs

Anybody try to front, they gettin' shoved in the mud

You claim that you get fly, but you get squashed like a bug

America the great, America the thug

And still I'll never be enough, so what's up, what's up