This is a song about "Eight"

The wealthy are top two, upper middle class is eight percent,

Young strugglersracing the clockain't no telling when it all can end

Tonight no pitchers, everything's straight

When i put ten in the bank and they take eight?

The clientele buy and sell like a pawn shop

Figure eight clocks, see the hourglasses stopped

Eight in the evening and we're up smoking

I'm a king.you should kiss my pinky ring

I shine, you shine, so we shine

Seven eight nine, eternity is mine

Leaving him eight hundred and forty pounds heavy,

Lock my heart up, this is jail, throw away the key

I remember peabody mice crawling up the shower

I take home billions and pay my workers eight bucks an hour,