[intro bars] 7 spaces is sufficient for an income submission Need 8? Hoarding wealth doesn’t sound very Christian. Tax em to death, drag the filthy rich in the road The real rich, not pretend ones dripping in gold The ones with lizard skin, blood blue it turned cold Who be fucking their own kin because the bloodline old. [intro bridge: sung] Tax the rich - in the ground The real rich don’t parade their pound X marks the spot on the hideaways Bidding for innocence hot, like they’re willing to pay But no one made money giving their cash to little ones Fresh faces fade for some younger fun Tax the rich - to the ground A guillotine chop is a lovely sound [verse 1: rapped] A million seconds is about twelve days - it disappears, A billion seconds - thirty-one long, heavy years. 54 years to burn a bill at fifty k a day While you sippin the interest like it’s lemonade in the shade. One thousand millions make a billion; stack ‘em, now you’re tall One thousand billions make a trillion; bet your cock is small. Five percent on hundred bil? That’s five bil just for breathing, While nurses splitting shifts and all the patients do the pleading. Wealth compounding while the wages hit the ceiling fan, Money makes its money while you don’t - that’s the plan. Private islands, private laws, privacy as armour, GDP of nations sits in cash inside their larder. Shells inside of shells, a matryoshka on the ledger, Charity appearance let the loopholes be the measure. Buy a town, buy a channel, buy the spin of the news, Buy the algorithm so dissenting voices lose. Say the market is a meritocracy, how quaint! Cos the genitals inherited; we left with the taint. If taxes are guillotines, arithmetic’s the rope Cut the cord on feudal futures; give the kids hope! [hook] Tax the rich - to the ground The real rich don’t parade their pound Line them up, tie them down A guillotine chop is a lovely sound [verse 2: rapped] FOSTA–SESTA. FOSTA–SESTA. Legislation that protects molesters. Touch a child allegedly shove you off a ledge-edly. Garnish your wage to compensate incest victims’ needs. Obsessed with a daughter distanced cut the feed. No more Christmases; “Katie Johnson” allegations shelved, Twelve? Thirteen? Trafficked, so the filings tell. Obscene, graphic - read the court transcript. Look me in the eye - say your hero isn’t rancid. You’re still a fanatic; no villain - he’s messianic? MAGA is a bad religion; stoking a moral panic. Wishing an autocratic, ethnocentric, idiomatic, Oligarchic, uncultured orange man to take a shit on Uncle Sam— I’d like to buy a vowel; “Y” is this conduct allowed? Puritans got sick of equality - cleansing it now. [vocalist change] New justice in town: the name is Jim Crow; Hanging judge with the lynch mob “Proud Boys, yo.” Jack Perry on the top, and they drippin’ the ice; Hate immigrants, but you know they don’t mind vice. Hot tamales in the back of the van - no lights Take ’em home to meet the gang - read ’em their rights. (Mamacita) Not in a war I’m just profiteering Pride parade you won’t see me cheering I’m wearing a gas mask, to hide my tears And my face, I can’t get outed it’s the worst of my fears [hook] Tax the rich - to the ground The real rich don’t parade their pound Line them up, tie them down A guillotine chop is a lovely sound
