Money
Get away
You get a good job with more pay and you're okay

Money
It's a gas
Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash

New car, caviar, four star, daydream
Think I'll buy me a football team

Money
Get back
I'm all right, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack

Money
It's a hit
Don't give me that do goody good bullshit

I'm in the high-fidelity first-class travelling set
And I think I need a Lear jet
Welcome to Hell
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to Rooftops
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to The Starlight Room
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
Welcome to The Underworld
And now, for tonight's main event
The Heavyweight
Close swaddled in the cloying folds of fat
The Heavyweight squats
Freak fearful on his stool
And through toad lids
He squints his vision of the world
The grey parade of waiters trade
His retinue, of course
Seconds, thirds, and fourths
Cling, tick-like, to his skin
The bell sounds
In the corner of the ring
A fresh contender for his crown
Puts out his pale hand to shake before the bout
The champion blinks
His sticky tongue
Swollen in greed
With cobra speed
Snakes out
It's lights out for the kid
His grace and wit, in that split second
Plucked, sucked, dissolved
Reduced to petty bulk
Digested
Shit
The champ, well satisfied
Adjusts his sumo backside on the stool
Draws ‘round his cloak, breaks wind, out loud
The crowd howls its approval
But, in the shadow of the ring
With cloven hoof and a crooked grin
The Devil pats the briefcase that holds the Faustian pact
He smiles, enjoys his little joke
Because, he knows, the champion's cloak
Is but a shroud, in fact

Money
It's a crime
Share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie

Money
So they say
Is the root of all evil today

But if you ask for a rise
It's no surprise that they're giving none away
Away
Giving none away
Giving none away
How much ya givin' away?
Uh…none. Nuffin'