Texty: Grateful Dead. The Grateful Dead From The Mars Hotel. Money, Money.

My baby, gives me
The finance blues
Tax me to the limit
Of my revenues

Here she comes finger-poppin'
Clickety-click
She says, furs or diamonds
You take your pick

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

Money, money
Money, money, money
Money, money
Money, money, money

And she say, money, honey
I'd rob a bank
I just load my gun
And mosey down to the bank

Knockin' off my neighborhood
Savings and load
To keep my sweet Chiquita
In ea u de cologne

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

Money, money
Money, money, money
Money, money
Money, money, money

Mama don't send me down
To rob that bank again
I got a notion that
You're leadin' me to sin

Won't you relax
Won't you lay way back
Don't you bug
Your honey 'bout no Cadillac

It's only bucks
You don't need no jack
So, won't you please
Relax and lay way back

My baby's lovin'
Gives me such a thrill
It gives me inspiration
Makin' counterfeit bills

Now, some folks say
The best things in life are free
I sure don't get no love
And livin' honestly

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

Money, money
Money, money, money
Money, money
Money, money, money

Lord made a lady
Out of Adam's rib
Next thing you know
You got women's lib

Lovely to look upon
Heaven to touch
It's a real shame
They got to cost so much

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

She wants money
What she wants?
She wants money
What she wants?

Money, money
Money, money, money
Money, money
Money, money, money

Money, money
Money, money, money
Money, money
Money, money, money