This is a Shakespearean sonnet about money, and the gettings of it.
Money doesn't come until you're ready
So read, and learn, and trie and fail, and win
Living isn't done because it's deadly
So trie to rip and run, then die from sin
Money isn't here to fill your coffers
You've got to make your skin thick and slick now
Are you busy loafing? Crafting offers?
Don't loaf around and spit like some sick cow
And money doesn't know your name, nor mine
Its destiny is written in the snow
Well, money doesn't have a taste for crime
Though criminals do have the flesh to show
Money isn't here just to make you rich
Remember that while you're crafting your pitch