From The Lab

A Guide To Stackin Paper

The facts stand clear, the options being few,
Hustle the world to balance crooked scales,
Develop talents, reach levels unseen,
Supply and demand with conscience stripped bare.
The snap of thick rubber bands drives the cause,
Dead presidents ease choices made of pain;
Our fiends, whether it be music or drugs,
Will always crave for tonics to escape.
If not from you, than rivals just like you,
With no such qualms about the game they play.
Dirty paper trails cleanly mark off turf,
Where only one could find a profit cleared;
So stick-up-kids, the moment lies ahead,
Now flip cheddar before the windows close.