Lyrics:
Knowledge is power
Time is money
The world is ours
Nigga I grind major,
With a hustler state of mind,
I got Million dollar chromosomes,
Mr. new
myself
Ruffle for nobody's sweat
Mehn I see nobody else
Many forces be dead
Fresh me emotions a day
Get the motion a day
Catch new emotion err' day
Many
your ass, go get a bag, whatever you gotta do, go do it
I was on the block bumpin' that High Class Street Music (trap)
Twenty four hours workin'
but it didn't fit call it a misfit bitch
Nutted in her three times she my tres leches
Then I block her after I'm done like it was Tetris
So she got
This music shit never really loved me back
I mean from the jump I had these haters try to say I'm wack
But I was hot
Out the gate and quick to blaze
Operatic, flow is illmatic, even though I adjusted the tube, it's still static
Straight from the attic, music blasted out the Aiwa
Not Kanye, I still
a heterosex
Ain't you get your neck checked by the second to best
Don't ever forget, ain't nothing less than best
Ima different breed, different seed
Do you
presence
Don't need y'all Reverence
I'm just tryna prosper and live well you kno the devil gon form weapons
Was real life Tetris
On the block tryna make it
(Now its music in their ears, I got a perfect licking mind
Bout to slide by their crib, point it out and put you down)
Take what you want, tie they
"The music might sound strange and beautiful. It might feel disembodied..
boundless, spinning helplessly through space..."
[Jamie Madrox]
That's me
forget a new flow now you know
I'm MJG I take the other side of the story
for those who don't here No More Glory
No More
glory for the one's who don't
a zima.
Roll around the club forty times in ya beamer.
Lease by ya moms watch the don flow like water.
Next week you scrape to buy pampers for your
the grand canyon
Emcees couldn't hang if they was lynched by the Grand Dragon
Searching for my style like Job-Corps
Coming home on work release
Martha Stewart and her kitchen too
Where the hell'd I put my glasses?
What a sorry shape my ass is
Hey you kids, get off my lawn
The face is familiar
Words and music by Freddie Mercury and John Deacon
Ooh yeah yeah yeah yeah!
You're taking all the sunshine away
Making out like you're the main
[Kriminul]
For real hip hop niggaz..
J.I.G. Mastas..
For days on I hear the same song sayin' nothin new
I'm in the cunt gettin' my blaze
cracks the puzzle's code
And infact since slick chaps
Have bummed me clothes
We're trailblazin' a lit path by jungle's glow
So with a spliff...
I sit back
in the stocks on the strap.
You're disgracing your effort by conforming to textbook
performance of music to fill in the gaps,
and it's bullshit.
Could feel the sun about to rise,
When I realized we had nothing to fear
It's just me and my daddy and a kid named Cope,
Making music that nobody would
the sun about to rise,
When I realized we had nothing to fear
It's just me and my daddy and a kid named Cope,
Making music that nobody would hear
And then
he could he'd charge you twice
He hasn't had decent music in years
and these kids they ain't got no class
The help don't know squat the coffee's never
(x4)
Turn the music up a bit...
Yo, yo...
Dark secrets, demons with a conscience
I'm the Lone Ranger looking for Pocahontas
Teenage zombies flying
(Tiе)
Kids having gun fights from
Sundown to sunlight (yeah)
We argue abortion and thеn
We argue gun rights
All these opinions contradict on
The both
(Now it's time for me to make my impression felt)
Same vinyl crates, but I'm coming up with new flips
On my classic, like karate kid and blue chips
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