Lyrics

I know, money, money, money, money
Gotta get the money, gotta get the bag
I know, I know, gotta get the riches
The hustle never stops
I know, I know, I know
I feel like, like we're creating some kind of monster
You just can't be happy
Gotta get the money, gotta get the bread, gotta get the bread
I want the biggest car, the biggest house
The most jewelry, I want all the bitches
Everything
I want power over people
Sound like a monster
I'll do whatever it takes
I don't know man
Something don't feel right about it
Listen, I'm not telling you not to get it
It's the way you get it

I know a man who says he wants monster truck doe
He's doesn't understand he's creating a monster though
It sounds good, what he doesn't know
Is that one day this beast will grow
After getting a piece of apple pie a la mode
His eyes will turn money green, he'll only want more
His passion for the cash uncontrollable
His lust for material wealth incredible
So he heads out west where he heard there's hills of gold
Hoping to be bigger than McDs over a billion sold
To get in the industry, he's willing to sell his soul
But everyone told him that this was a no no
Did he listen, no
Now he's walking around like some fucking asshole
Trying to be your next American Idol
But you what happened to Mr. MichaelJackson
They made him The Monster

It's not about you gettin' there
It's how you get there
Don't turn into The Monster
The Monster