Money | Talks Serve It Up

And when the bottle pops, when the dice get thrown, When the handshake seals what you've never known — The toast goes up, and the room gets loud: "Pour another round for the silent god." Cash rules, but it needs a cup — So dress it pretty and serve it up.

Yeah. They say talk is cheap, but money? Money orders the meal, picks the wine, decides who eats last. So don't just hear it — plate it. Serve it up. Let 'em taste the gospel of the green. Amen. Would you like this as a song lyric, a monologue, or a short film voiceover? I can adapt it further. money talks serve it up

The dealer fans cards with a gold-plated smirk, The suit in the corner just finished his work. He slid an envelope under the door — Now two armed guards don't work there no more. Money talks in a dialect clean: No verbs, no grammar, just green on green. It says "jump" — you ask how high. It says "forget" — you kiss goodbye. And when the bottle pops, when the dice