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nerfonator - act i: "million dollar man" lyrics

[intro: peter s. atlas]
(one!)
and so it unravels by figure of authority
to sink to the bottom of a glass with a mind so dense and a neck so heavy
a drunk with power
eyes sharp, top of the clocktower

[verse 1]
knock, knock (who’s there?)
a man who has it all
got wads in massive vaults with padded locks and static bolts
jack of all trades who spends days formin’ labyrinth halls
that have you fallin’ in and out of past+withdrawals of adderall
the kingpin of business, his profits stackin’ tall
amassin’ 8 b+lls every time we queue the casting calls
and if they don’t make the cut, bring dreams to tragic halts
and smack ‘em all ‘til they fall on their backs and have to gasp and crawl
my reputation as a boss is sorta boundary+breakin’
the dedication to attainin’ all the pounds we rake in
the ground be shakin’ with every move we make
and if they don’t fit our groove, take ‘em off the wax and keep the record playin’
‘cause if they don’t follow commands, they turn to bounty bacon
and we hang ‘em up in the cut where the laundry drapin’
make some use with what they hide in their chest
skin ‘em and make me a coat, sh+t, an argyle vest, huh (million dollar man!)
back to the subject at hand
i have a puppet of a man who falls under my plans
he goes by “a”, puts his wife first, pours blood, sweat and tears
crooked t++th, but a smile worth a lot more than appears
he looked at me and said “i wanna take chances,” i told him “prove it”
so, he flips a quarter up in the air and then shoots it
i say “touché, bravo for thinkin’ out the box” then pat his back
thinkin’ how much of a gag i can get off of stabbin’ that
[bridge]
yeah, yeah, i’m just a million dollar—
i’m just a million dollar man, y’all
i’m just a million dollar man
i’m just a million dollar—
i’m just a million dollar man, y’all
i’m just a million dollar man (big money, big money)
i’m just a million dollar— (big money, big money, big money)
i’m just a million dollar man, y’all
i’m just a million dollar man (big money, big money)
i’m just a million dollar— (big money, big money, big money)
i’m just a million dollar man

[verse 2]
fast+forward a stack of days to sat+rday
i start catchin’ up with a as we practicin’ for the stage
and halfway through, he grabs the sleeve of my dress shirt
pulls me to the side like he’s the expert
woolly mammoth eyes in a sweatshirt
a fully+realized look on the verge of a temper stirrin’ up as he says:
“sir, my mind is polluted, would you kindly supply an off day?
i’m tryna provide food and a roof for my fiancée
when i’m back, i’ll do twice the work if double of the mula is paid in exchange
if you do that, i’ll be beyond grateful,”
well, not even thinkin’ for a minute, we on the same page
‘cause while he’s fixin’ his eviction, fiancée gettin’ paid
my trigger finger itchin’ ‘cause every shot i get, i’ma take
we been conversin’ durin’ rehearsals while p+wn is on the stage
this is chess not checkers, i see flaws in how you play
these games be joggin’ my brain
they say when one door closes, another creeks open
so, once he’s out the frame, she’s walkin’ in
her feet soakin’ in the marble floor spannin’ ‘cross my mansion with the hardwood doors
i’m often branded as the art of war
that’s what i’m seein’ when she stands on the landing, her eyes demand
‘cause without a ring on that finger, i see a dyin’ man
don’t try and hold me accountable for decisions that i don’t make
everything i see is business at the end of the day
you offer yourself for pay, then i’ma push you to your limits
slip off your band, i’ma hand you a band, i said it’s business
round after round but drunk with power, we fry the mission
with an unmatched caliber that they try to mimic
these clowns can’t fit the boots they try to slip into
big shoes got them trippin’ through the trail i blaze
frail legs ail with despair
that’s cause i walk the path where giants rest, my footprints outsizin’ theirs
the neckpieces over their chests the size of my wrist wear
so, kick air and scribble white crayon, ‘cause y’all can’t catch up
tomatoes thrown at the stages in shows when i step up
and molotov c+cktails tossed at the tapestry
every magazine, they bashin’ me
it’s only hittin’ me that money is the blood of the industry
when i roll down the window, lean over the wheel to inhale the gasoline
it go one for the money, and two for the show
three for the honey, and four’s when we go
[outro: peter s. atlas]
to be continued
we’ll be back after these brief messages

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