[Verse 1]
Deja got a raise, two dollars more an hour,
same week she signed the lease on a condo with a rain shower,
jets on three walls, a view of the parking lot,
cable bill tripled, she figures that's smart — it's not.
Paycheck lands heavier, she feels it in her palm,
but the checking account sits still, calm as a clam.
New heels, standing orders for sushi on Thursdays,
every single raise gets eaten before the weekend.
Six months later she's richer only on paper,
counting zeros leaving faster than the maker
can print them — money's gone surreptitious, slipping quiet,
sneaking past the budget wearing somebody's new diet of nice things.
[Chorus]
More in the pocket, more out the door,
the saving account looks just like before.
Every raise gets spent before it lands,
lifestyle's creeping through my open hands.
[Verse 2]
So Deja starts a habit, nothing loud or grand —
before she buys the couch she checks three stores by hand.
Same cushions, same color, forty dollars apart,
comparison shopping, turns out, is basic smarts.
And all those drives to clients, the gas she never claimed,
the app keeps a trip log, so the mileage gets named,
turns wear and tear and detours to a line on a form,
a deduction hiding quiet where the odometer's worn.
She's not cutting joy out, just closing up the drain,
pecuniary peace, not pecuniary pain —
small checks before big ones, a log kept in her phone,
the difference between renting tomorrow and owning your own.
[Bridge]
Still the itch don't fully quit when the paycheck grows,
every upgrade whispers that you've earned one more of those.
No app can stop the wanting, no trick to make it still,
just a steadier hand each time you're signing for the bill.
That part stays hard. That part just does.
[Verse 3]
Her cousin Marcus doubled his salary in a year,
new truck, new watch, same empty feeling, crystal clear.
Says he can't explain it, the money comes and goes,
like water through his fingers, straight down to his toes.
Deja shows him the trick ain't about making more,
it's about catching what slips through that wide-open door.
They sit down with his statements, circle what's a want,
turns out half his spending was just background noise and flaunt.
He cancels three subscriptions, moves some cash to a fund,
first month it feels like nothing, second month it's begun —
a cushion in the checking, a number that holds,
instead of disappearing the way the old one folds.
[Chorus]
More in the pocket, more out the door,
the saving account looks just like before.
Every raise gets spent before it lands,
lifestyle's creeping through my open hands.
[Chorus]
More in the pocket, more out the door,
the saving account looks just like before.
Every raise gets spent before it lands,
lifestyle's creeping through my open hands.