some say the game's real
'cause the man didn't give us manuals to the game to make it big
a corner boy tryna claim a smidge
to keep all the right foods in the fridge
keep all the right dudes on the bridge
when i get in
the captian seek
sorta liek james kirk
but my name's work-matic
here to adjust
the pros oppose to gettin froze than economy plus
link up with erick and p. and do a whole collabo together
called +the joint+
business class
to run up in first so the biz can last
instead
the biz went to hell and got infiltrated
by them mainstream infidels
so here to settle the score
blow up the track to bits and leave nothing!
no clause or claim
provoking a fear or fame
just know the name! it ain't de la
that's the group i'm in
it ain't old school
that's the truth i blend
and this will not be the realest shit i ever wrote
but more real than theirs
so what that say about the words they spoke?
i tell ya light and raw
you never find a black man with blue balls. like you hard
sell a load every area code
domestic or inter-national
see that sounds a little un-rational
watch your step
you might trip!
look out below
a nigga done fell in
these rhymes are for sell
but it ain't gun sellin
tellin tales as such
that's just for liars
equipped with the hands to silence ya whole choir
deny her! she the one who started this nonsense
excuse me
i got issues of my consciences
flip like geminis
in fact
i am just a virgo
tee shot the bird to skeet skeets a burner to ya big mouf
you can find us in the big house
invitin you to the doorstep
where the raw's kept
the fourth step
broke
i'm a take him if i got money on his mouth so i'm a move the cliff
the right route
we break bread and make bread
charge a fam a fee for it's mistake bread
good times
sometimes seem corrupt
i put my shell on the book so we movin on up
confuse it all up
peep the rule of thumb
i got consent from a king so a bitch can't run
and beggars can't beg when the deaf don't hear
if i'm blind to the facts
i see your bullshit clear
and you been all year in my ear with your feathers
peacockin the boy
we droppin the boy
inserts volumes
twenty are dances
it'll be sweet if you heard the advance. now bring the chorus in
]
shout! talk about it! say somethin!
you heard that? louder! it's the big mouf!
the mirror shows me frowns when the money's tight
sometime you gotta go left to get the money right
and i'm not gonna be left behind
fuck all your phonecalls
merce has left the line
whatever you need say
say it to trent or ray or chris ak
or smilez
no longer wanna hear it
unless it's the files of the mp3
gottin me to spit the p
with about five-letter fs' attached
while you in your ride screamin'. a poor man's hope
a poor manhood
back in your egghead like yo. you niggas will not elude me!
helpin you remember wire the first
you should include me
the leo slash dragon
who pulled out the knife
and slashed all four tires on the bandwagon!