Hands Off My Money

Lyrics

(Intro)
Yeah. Who the fuck told you you can fucking touch my money?
Who the fuck told you to pay PayPal?
PayPal's supposed to pay that fucking bill.
Who the fuck are you?
Let's look at the math.
​(Verse 1)
(Production: Heavy live drums drop in with a driving, syncopated rhythm. The bassline is thick, distorted, and menacing. Vocals are aggressive, sharp, and tightly timed to the beat.)
I budget my money down to the very last cent
I know exactly where it goes, from the bills to the rent
But I put my cards in a digital wallet just to keep them in line
And the automated system started acting like it wasn't mine
Chime took a payment two days before the actual due date
Before my direct deposit hit, they just couldn't fucking wait
They declined the transaction, blamed a PayPal security code error
Then pushed it through one minute later to create financial terror.
​(Chorus)
They give it to you two days early just to put you two days behind
Permanently shifting the goalposts to trap your peace of mind
They tell you it's due on Friday, but they take it on Wednesday afternoon
You had the money planned for Thursday, but they struck too fucking soon
So now you owe a penalty fee instead of a cleared account
Paying the price for their corporate games and every hidden amount.
​(Verse 2)
It does what it wants to do, treating your cash like a loan
Samsung Pay and Google Pay hijacking control of your phone
They dig through your wallet, grabbing whatever backup card they can see
Draining accounts to cover a hidden, unwanted subscription fee
Bank of America, Wells Fargo, pulling strings in the dark
Citi and Mastercard leaving their predatory mark
I open up the apps and I'm completely flying blind
Money scattered everywhere, leaving me to guess and find
This one says it's empty, that one says the bill is late
While I'm driving around with no fucking auto insurance on the interstate
It should’ve been covered last week, but they let the balance drain
Leaving me exposed to the risk while they profit off the pain.
​(Chorus)
They give it to you two days early just to put you two days behind
Permanently shifting the goalposts to trap your peace of mind
They tell you it's due on Friday, but they take it on Wednesday afternoon
You had the money planned for Thursday, but they struck too fucking soon
So now you owe a penalty fee instead of a cleared account
Paying the price for their corporate games and every hidden amount.
​(Verse 3)
(Production: The drums turn frantic and fast-paced, building intense dynamic tension. Vocals escalate in raw, unfiltered frustration.)
They shift all the timelines, they scramble the lines
Then they look at the damage and hand you the fines
Every major banking giant playing games with the net
Cross-firing balances until I'm about to lose my fucking mind
And now the right account that should have cleared the bill from town
Is taking on the water and starting to fucking drown
We're cutting the cord on their digital game
No more paying the penalties under their name
You don't own my calendar, you don't run my clock
We're reclaiming the leverage and putting the system on lock.
​(Guitar Solo)

​(Outro)
Go play the lotto, corporate thieves, you ain't getting a dime from me
I’m turning off the auto-pay pipeline to reclaim my sovereignty
We’re switching it to manual pay, holding the cash until it's late
Paying at eleven-fifty-nine PM exactly on the fucking due date.
Yeah, see what happens when you put this shit on manual instead
Now we'll all pay you at eleven-fifty-nine, your little game is dead
You'll never get two days free off our sweat ever again
Now you're a day behind, we're ahead, and we win
So fuck you, motherfucker, your system is done.
Yeah. Turn the machines completely off.
We see right through it. Cool knows cool... and we are still the coolest.