Lyrics:
with the old men in the club cars,
A penny a point, there ain't no one keeping score.
Won't you pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,
You can
this time
With these tears all on my face
And I'm trying to make a move
And they say men don't cry
I done seen a million tears
Coming down my eyes
If I
portraits
Verse Two: RZA
Check the mic lines for wire-taps
...we're under attack, man your stations, take aim, proceed...
Fire back, all hands on deck
snuffed and crushed and bodies rotting in the dust
Documents hushed and brushed away
Bloody hands getting away with barbaric havoc on the planet
Sycophantic
would stay
And in this short quarter that I've called my life
I've already felt the sting of a hundred years of knives
Time will pass, day by day, but
The master plan
Can I kick it
Yes you can
Like Phife
Live life
With strife
Guns knives
And nightsticks
Why and try and fit
If you still get whipped
Throw up
When it go sqrt you hear the tires bleed
Got to boss up and take care of there needs
We coming with knifes no assassins creed
Bando boss up take care
Cossacks knock
With devilry this loot unlock
Women's lives are but meagre bribes
Bodies carved by more than knives
They have hung our priest up on high
a grand and three hundred
For my beat machine, my body, I keep it clean
By eating vegetables, while you claim indestructible
I made 'em feel
get a hundred bitches and fuck with the spitting
Religous like a couple of post-marital Christians
I've been official, Dick Bevetta a living
You
to hell with him
The walls of hell, are closing in, disciples, we rose again
the Sunz of Man, chosen men
Like lightning, striking, from the East
the boys had not been found and fear had turned to dread
Two hundred men had gathered there to comb the mountainside
The fires were built on the highest peak
a grand
And leave out with two hundred just to get our brains rammed
The freaky spitter with the chinky eyes
The Green-Eyed Bandit programmed for me
I'm starting from under
But I'll get to the top in time
I better my peers
And vice versa like kitchen knives
Well sharpen each other
And not to damage
more
Gonna lock off all of my socials
Go to bed and be gone by the morn
Don't
Act like you ain't been warned
I been out of the ends with a sweet barbie
a broke mode
Got a lotta love but fuck it imma turn cold
Droppin bombs on em wit the homie Loco
Caution in the streets is amnesia for police
I got away with
the swagger old spice
Before I slit my throat with dull bread knives
Float the river STYX, coins on my cold dead eyes
Got broke, got broke, got broken
Who knew
29 Hundred Dollars Going Once Going Twice carat Twenty One Center the pink diamond Who Wanted Coming Up bracelet 9 Carat Diamond Yellow Bright Two
Hear the jang-a-lang know they got the pocket change
With a dollar sound, ain't no sneaking out the place
Hear the jang-a-lang that's the hundred dollar
Stepping off the wrong feet will get your head gone(will get your head gone)
A hundred and seventy shoots niggar that’s a man down( niggar that’s a man down)
to war
Remember back when you wasn't shit
At my hotel with the bundles of shit
Give my a hundred g's to bust on your shit
And I touched the shit
the beast within,
I walk around, with the strength of a hundred men,
To best to run before I count to ten,
Blood drippin from my canine, like a fountain
truth is marching on
I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps
I
can tell by who I hang with
None of us is famous
Lost a couple brothers but they were never of us cuz they wasn't with who I came with
Misunderstood
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