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  1. Automatic
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This is a song about money.

Lyrics

Fuck this dinghy bitch, I need a yacht (One foot in the gutter, one in the ditch)

Sick of yard weed, I want some grow room pot (One foot in the gutter, one in the ditch)

Five dollar pocket is all I got (One foot in the gutter, one in the ditch)

I need to be a have, not a have not

Worshipped like a deity among those who know want

Like a banker writing policy, I’ll be fine

I don’t care if it’s blood soaked, if it sold the children drugs

If it put the slave in sex, that’s just fine

It’s a different kind of city with the tent I pitch (One foot in the gutter, one in the ditch)

Too poor to hang from a simple half hitch (One foot in the gutter, one in the ditch)

I got the itch to be rich, the itch to be rich (One foot in the gutter, one in the ditch)

It’s a different kind of city with the tent I pitch

Imagine a rich hippy, writing it can’t buy you love

Whose children never hungered, in winter they wore gloves

Too broke to smoke it ain’t a joke, poverty is rough

Only those who have it all write dumb shit like

There's never enough money, I'm sorry poor people, money won't fix your problems

Silly poor people, money is for rich people

enough

Gimme gimme,

gimme gimme that shit

I need all of that shit