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These ideas are nightmares to poor players,
Whose worst fear is a child with rich parents who like sharing,
Like whatever they say has no bearing.
It's so scary in a clan that allows no swearing,
To see him walking around with his headphones blaring,
Alone in his own zone, cold and he don't care.

He's a problem child and what bothers him all comes out,
When he talks about his clan mate who cleaned him out,
Cause he hates him so bad that he blocks him out.
If he ever saw him again he'd probably knock him out.

His thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back,
Talkin' crap, brainwashed from trolls and saps.
He bought his membs, runecoins and his spinning cap,
His clan mate scammed him, so he spun for cash.
He's broke no more, his clan is a broken home,
There's no control, he just let's his emotions go...

Entertainment is changing, intertwining with payments.
In the land of the vetrans, a spinner's mind is a sanctum
Holy or unholy, only have one homie,
Only this one, lonely cause don't anyone know me.

Yet everybody just feels like they can relate,
I guess money and top players, well they can be great,
Or they can degrade, or even worse they can teach hate.
It's like these kids hang on every single statement we make,

Like they worship us, now Jagex stores ship us Platinum.
Now how the hell did this metamorphosis happen?
From standin' on corners and bank booths just laughin'
To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' ass.

But then these critics crucify you, forumers try to burn you,
Vets turn on you, scammers all want a turn at you,
To get they hands on every dime you have,
they want you to lose your mind every time you mad,

So they can try to make you out to look like a loose cannon.
Any dispute won't hesitate to produce profanity.
That's why these veterans wanna convict me,
Strictly just to get me off of these forums quickly.

But all these kids be listenin' to me religiously,
So I'm dropin' parties while these vets all flame me.
They're for all of the players but they have grudges against me.
If i'm such a heavy menace, this stuff doesn't make sense Pete.

It's all political, if your opinions are literal, and i'm a criminal,
How the hell can Jagex raise revenue?
They couldn't, they wouldn't be fit to,
You're full of it too, Gerhard,
That was a brick that they threw...

They say money can alter moods and talk to you.
Well, can it set a lure up for you, and run it too?
Well if it can, then the next time you go scam a dude,
Just tell the mod it was my fault and i'll get screwed.

See what these kids do is hear about us maxin' cash pools,
And they want to get one cause they think that it's cool,
Not knowing we really just investin' in spins, we're also gamers,
Of course the spin's affectin' our skills, you ignoramus.
But RuneScape can't progress by itself,
We keep funding it, and then we get our stacks from the Squeal.

It's messed up ain't it?
How we can come from practically nothing,
To being able to have any lucky thing that we wanted.
That's why we drop for these kids, who don't have a thing,
Except for a dream, and a bucket and raw sardine,
Who post screenshot pictures on facebook all day long,
Idolize they favorite players and read all they logs.

Or for anyone who's ever been through hell in their lives,
So they sit and they cry at night wishin' they'd die,
Till we throw on a drop party and they sit, and they vibe.
We're nothin' to you, but we're the luckiest thing in they eyes

That's why we seize the moment,
Try to freeze it and own it,
Squeeze it and hold it,
Cause we consider these minutes golden.

And maybe they'll admit it when we're gone,
Just let our spirits live on,
Through the drops from our parties till dawn.

And we can...