Money talks, guess I'm tongue-tied,
While they’re stacking green, I’m just gettin' by.
They laugh in penthouses, I see it from below,
Lookin’ up at the sky, tryna touch that glow.
The rich wear crowns, while I wear dreams,
They say “work harder,” like it’s all I need.
While they vacation on yachts overseas,
I’m hustlin' daily just to stay on my feet.
Gold-plated gates, yeah, they keep us apart,
Diamond-studded hearts that don’t know where to start.
I’m on the grind, they’re just born with the map,
That’s the difference, man – it’s the wealth gap.
Private jets take off, while I take the bus,
They flip stocks, we flip burgers for dust.
The dollar’s their language, we’re stuck on the mute,
While we hustle for crumbs, they hoard the loot.
They say “American Dream” like it’s a given,
But that dream’s on rent, I’m just tryna make a livin’.
Corporate suits makin' moves from the top,
While down here we’re still prayin' prices’ll drop.
Gold-plated gates, yeah, they keep us apart,
Diamond-studded hearts that don’t know where to start.
I’m on the grind, they’re just born with the map,
That’s the difference, man – it’s the wealth gap.
But we rise up, fists high to the sky,
They can own the earth, but we’ll own the fight.
They can buy the silence, but our voices scream,
Break the chains, we’ll rewrite this dream.
They hide in high towers, but their walls are thin,
The louder we get, the less they win.
So here's to the ones hustling the grind,
We’re the beat in the streets, the voice in the rhyme.
Money talks, guess I'm tongue-tied,
While they’re stacking green, I’m just gettin' by.
They laugh in penthouses, I see it from below,
Lookin’ up at the sky, tryna touch that glow.
The rich wear crowns, while I wear dreams,
They say “work harder,” like it’s all I need.
While they vacation on yachts overseas,
I’m hustlin' daily just to stay on my feet.
Gold-plated gates, yeah, they keep us apart,
Diamond-studded hearts that don’t know where to start.
I’m on the grind, they’re just born with the map,
That’s the difference, man – it’s the wealth gap.
Private jets take off, while I take the bus,
They flip stocks, we flip burgers for dust.
The dollar’s their language, we’re stuck on the mute,
While we hustle for crumbs, they hoard the loot.
They say “American Dream” like it’s a given,
But that dream’s on rent, I’m just tryna make a livin’.
Corporate suits makin' moves from the top,
While down here we’re still prayin' prices’ll drop.
Gold-plated gates, yeah, they keep us apart,
Diamond-studded hearts that don’t know where to start.
I’m on the grind, they’re just born with the map,
That’s the difference, man – it’s the wealth gap.
But we rise up, fists high to the sky,
They can own the earth, but we’ll own the fight.
They can buy the silence, but our voices scream,
Break the chains, we’ll rewrite this dream.
They hide in high towers, but their walls are thin,
The louder we get, the less they win.
So here's to the ones hustling the grind,
We’re the beat in the streets, the voice in the rhyme.