Trem Ft. Brad Strut - Reminisce

Niciodata

inouaintapimp

They sell in the rich, they build in the poor, But they don’t feed back — they just drain more. Cash flows up, then out the gate, Leaving nations hollow, real estate holds the weight.

Yo, property’s the battery, but it’s running low, Inflated by fiction, not by flow. The workers broke, the roots gone dry, But the skyline shines — a financial lie.

Inflation props it, like a cheat in the code, While the real economy erodes. No pulse, no loop, no grounded plan, Just castles built on shifting sand.

They saw the nation as numbers, not breath, Chased the profit, but summoned death. Cash drained up like stolen air, Left the body gasping — unaware.

Yo, the economy’s a living thing, With roots that feed, with lungs that sing. But they bled it dry for quarterly gain, Now the organs fail beneath the strain.

Global reach, but no insight, They reaped the gold, but killed the light. The 1% own the sky and sea, But the soil’s gone — no place to be.

Governments twitch in ancient fear, No strategy left, just war draws near. Conditioned minds, blind to the cost, The most evolved civilizations — lost.

The nation’s a body, the economy breathes, But the wealth gets siphoned like falling leaves. Cash flows upward, out of the land, Leaving the roots too weak to stand.

Real estate glows like a battery cell, But it’s running down — can’t cast the spell. Inflation props it, like smoke and glass, While the working class watches time pass.

They reap vast profits, but miss the cost, The soil erodes, the culture’s lost. They think they win, but they kill the frame, The system dies — and war takes aim.

No feedback loop, no healing stream, Just hollow growth and a dying dream. The drain effect ain’t just a flaw, It’s the reason why we march to war.

Yo, the fault ain’t just in the throne, It’s in the code we’ve all been shown. Governments act from ancient scripts, Blind to the cracks, stuck in the flips.

Like electricity, we took the fast lane, Shortest path to profit — long-term pain. Globalized dreams, but no real plan, Just empire echoes and sleight of hand.

The West once flourished off stolen gold, Imperial cheats, success sold cold. Now the roots bleed, the body’s thin, And war’s the fallback — again, again.

Boom and bust ain’t fate, it’s theft, A cycle of cheating, nothing left. Free trade’s a myth when power’s skewed, Letting children buy palaces, crude.

We need control, a central mind, A strategy that’s realigned. Not just markets — but guided flow, Or the system dies, too slow to know.

Economics of Species Forget the charts, forget the greed, The system must serve the species’ need. Not just profit, not just gain, But nourishment flowing through every vein.

Economics ain’t numbers — it’s breath and bone, It’s how we live, how we’ve grown. The drain effect breaks the chain, Leaves the body in silent pain.

We need a strategy that’s built to last, Not shortcuts echoing from the past. Orbital build, symbiotic flow, A species economy — let it grow.

No more toys for corporate kings, No more war as default wings. We rise together, or fall alone, Economics of species — carved in stone.

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