Verse 1:
Debriefing my cohorts for the American Job, robbing for
The hood via cabooses, ransacking this financial establishment
That's as truly avaricious, Plutonian institution
Funding the F.R.S. (forever richest) misery painted green
By all the greediest and greatest of magicians
For "Good artists copy, and great artists steal" thieves artistic
At their craft of monetary trapeze acts, pick-pocketing
Wallets and purses, wire tapped, bank accounts of clients
Owned by the I.R.S.'s invisible hand, can't be bite
Monetarily we don't owe them shit, would if we could
Serve them, cotton paper at any moment anyways
To be eatin', when they really should be named "U.O.U.S."
Constituents misplacing their interests of trust
In allocated trust funds was never theirs to begin with
Sign that as the stamped notes of the Treasury
Borrowing from their booties, basically call us piracy
Modern day Blackbeards stealing back out of the Whitebeards
Walking the line with my crew, blue collar like Johnny Cash
We do everyday, looking like your everyday commonwealth
Perfect coverup for common career criminals, miscreants
Such as the six shooter Billy, you other mitches is Bonnie
Showing those mischievous who feed like beasts, 'til they get fat
Bellies and bleed by breaking their bloodbanks, +B Type burglary
After manhandling the Eagle, I bust the burgundy, blanco & blue
Out of their sacks (blood, semen and bruises) unlocking the safe
Combination, withdrawing the locks, entering the code
Lowering their guarded security, pulling the pin of my "3-5-7"
Spinning the chambers', so the revolving lever triggers
The blast doors open, in these barreled, steel corridors
Of titanium built infrastructures, for my team is exemplary
And I am their bandana-disguised head honcho, Clyde Collins
Intravenously, injecting money shots in you, if you're a teller