Yard Act – Payday Lyrics

Payday Lyrics By Yard Act

What constitutes a ghetto?
Is it growing your own lettuces in the potholes on the road?
Do the locals have to eat them all if they don’t sell ’em?
I call potholes ‘concrete meadows of the soul’

What constitutes a ghetto fetish?
Is it growing your own lettuces but not filling in the potholes?
The local council will be getting an earful, believe me
I call their lugholes ‘concrete bollards to the soul’

We all make the same sound when we get mowed down
And there are starving children in Africa, so go send your toy guns to Bosnia

Take the money, take the money, take the money and run
Take the money, take the money, take the money and run
Take the money, take the money, take the money and run
Take the money, take the money, take the money and treat your husband right

What constitutes real change?
Are we even vaguely aware of when we’ll terminate the muse?
If all offers are final then how is it even possible
For you to be both flush and completely principled?

Ah yeah well, I didn’t do any of it for you
I did it for the little boys and girls
Pulling lettuce from the potholes, hosing off the engine oil
Wax apples at Christmas, next year they’re sniffing glue

All of a sudden, I was blinded by a powerful light

Take the money, take the money, take the money and run
Take the money, take the money, take the money and run
Take the money, take the money, take the money and run
Take the money, take the money, take the money and treat your mother right

(Take
Take
Take) Take it
(Take) Just take it, put it in your pocket
(Take
Take) I won’t tell anyone

Take the money, ay, take the money, oh
Take the money, just treat, treat, treat yourself
Take the money, take it, take it, go on
Take it, take, take, take, take, take, take, take

Take the money, ay, take the money, oh
Take the money and treat your mother right
Take the money, oi, take the money, yeah
Take the money and treat your mother right