•••LOCASH REMEDY•••

HOV got networked money.

His fly ways stream up boocoo trey money.

How many times can J say Money?

J say he love them Benjamins.

J referee dollars frequently. As often as commies and cancelbunnies hate on all the have-monies.

Haters, they always be arriving laters. Cheap watch - bad chronography.

Maybe that's why they act like beggars: down on one knee, selling you misery, pathetically?

Your choice. Shop and consume OR chase tens of thousands of OPM's hundies.

If you're not hungry, btw, you defo won't get yourself any readies.

Sad face. Bah. You'll owe deeds to everyone including chicks and the fucking Easter bunny.

With IOUs on your back you'll never catch hot streaks or be doubling down on gin rummy.

Stash all tha wedge in metal cases - you'll be like Big Bear with a 1-tonne cache of his own cheddar entirely.

Hoard it, burn it or offboard it. It's your choice, isnt it?

Your net-net's the reward for all of your front-running.

Imaginary financially? Nah.

Not fungible means not for me rite now - I'm so sorry.

If you're left holding virtuals, there goes hilarity. It ain't gonna be like SNL-level funny.

See: money's just like water. Hold it stable and you're cool. Tip it and spill it and your lake empties out, fast as dams bust thru in flooding season.

It’ll just bleed and bleed, disappearing like a runaway.

Take it from me. Why? ‘Cos I went from the suites to the streets to getting a top-5 MBA.

Who put me through school? A wise man with his own £ vault containing recession-proof, juiced-up celery.

J said it best: it's the smart money, not the funny money you need to be all in, for gunning.

Know the difference between these two and you'll never need to be too cunning.

You get the message, darlink? You can’t print mad paper unless you got yourself a Treasury.

IMO? Stay on the BUY side. That way you be free to wine & dine the most refined of honies.

Got it? Good.

Here's the ticket. Punch it and bring me my ride please, Mr Valet.

Here comes *my* whip. It's a murdered-out AMG. Rims, night-blue windows: it was designed for every kind of speedway.

Camel suede seats ensure I drive home most most comfortably. Subwoofers guarantee bass notes in my ears, deep like oceans be. This way I take corners like Senna on yet another racing spree.

Back to the ranch. At mach mack speed, in all probability.

Highway cops? They not universally opposed to a little green - a spot of bribery.

Everyone can use more monies. Share it wisely. If you got eyes, you’ll see.

That's the freedom you gain when you bank your own, like you the next-up Mr. Carnegie.

Out.

Over.

Stop the V16 motor.

Consider notions of value creation. Go beyond simple accumulations or grabbing at a sporadic opportunity.

Long game. Play it out stretch, like the Capri Kid did it. Like, elegantly.

Compound tha stack and quick enough, you'll be getting 2x, 4x, 8x as lucky.

Store it safely while it's still sunny. When the dark night comes you won't need to flee like refugee, or going back to 1993.

You clocked that, Sonny? Swell.

Huh.

Class is out for today. This teach is splitting, heading past downtown on the 110. All the way to the Beach. A fantastic odyssey.

‘Prosperity VS economy’.

That's your essay for next week, yokay?

Learn the ways & soon you'll own a fleet of PJs.

More important: you'll have privacy. Like, as in, your own strip of runway. Long enough for a 380 to touch down anyday.

Your personal terminal. Where you retain your own security.

You can gas around as you wish, like reenacting scenes from AIRPLANE 3.

Wheels down. Smooth flight.

Zero worries. Never hurried.

Endless time and sky in which to play.

🐉

Signing off.

My names’ Liftoff.

No clapping please.

Strap in. Tap in.

I’ll be your pilot today.