Text - My millions

(Intro) :
"Hey, preacher. I’ve got my pockets full of cash!"

 

My little preacher listen up and tell them who I am

I’am a damon grin in the middle of a flock of sheeps

A life like Rock n Roll and to know that nothing is too cheap.

priest, spell your homily loud, or better scream it all out

 

               My pretty millions rules my world
               My lovely millions gotta moves my earth
               I want you preacher to hide my dirt
               nation, people celebrate my birth

 

I’ve got 18 cars, and got seven houses

Two blond servants escort me to my king-size tub in white wet blouses

Every bar and every club you never get in,

take a bow when I arrive. So, You will lose and I will win.

 

               My pretty millions rules my world
               My lovely millions gotta moves my earth
               I want you preacher to hide my dirt
               nation, people celebrate my birth

 

I get the last lonely tables in the coolest restaurants,

can buy me hundred evil prisoners just to beat you all day long

If I want I order hundred bags of bread just to throw them away.

Approach the lady on the street, with my money in my hands  

and say “Make my day”

 

In the age of 67, my legs are tired and thin. I lay alone in my old castle, seems my earth will soon stay still.

Shout for the nurse should for the girls. But none seems to care. A tear runs down my face.  They are playing with my money in their hands.

Bitches!              

               My ugly millions rules my world
               My stinky millions moves my earth
               Preacher please revoke my words
               let them forgive me, like I cut my nerves

 

Text: Sascha Council