Born in the Hills Beverly in '63 Only son of a rich mom and dad But dad was a jerk and mom did not work, it drove him mad When mom and dad died, late last July He got the house and the plane And now he just laughs and smokes his coke all day From New York to Tokyo Its all about the dough Its the coin, its the cash, its the currency stash Its the money that keeps us goin' The streets of Brooklyn are riddled with crooks and Dope dealers who don't give a f** Its all about hustling and scheming and making a buck
They rule the block with one hand on their Gloch Its the ghetto that keeps 'em in But they don't have a chance, its the same circumstance in the end He pa**es the years from atop his John Deere Surveying the fields from above Its not much to some, but he's happy to do what he loves Its been apples and pears, and a hundred state fairs Nothing more than a quiet, simple life His only regret is he never found time for a wife