Lyrics:
send the- back then
Numbers, pimpin' and robbin', well they still robbin' and pimpin'
But it's small change compare to hip hoppin'
And did I mention
money everywhere I go
From the 5-0-4, New York to London
All you bitches can just sit back and watch
How me and Puffy be on it
Like Diddy we get
With four or five niggas that's musclebound
Send your head to the taxidermist
Won't be satisfied, till I get my face on a thermos
You got to earn
the middle of the trap
I'm gonna start sweating like I ran a fucking lap
Customers on hold stressing they keep coming back
Three, six, five, two, four
the mic if you give me a chance
Cool V'll cut the record, make you do the 'Biz Dance'
I can - flip the crowd with a wave of my hand
I'm the Diabolical,
[Kool Keith]
Example one - master magical magician
Hold position, enter the club with competition
The Great Bartholomew, my spirit follow you
Hand
me, crazy
So I live by two words, "Fuck you, pay me"
Screaming, "Jesus, save me"
You know how the game be, I can't let 'em change me
'Cause
Win a battle you never fought
Just by checkin' this record you bought
Over and on and on again
Get with it and do that thing
One, two, I'll party
(now) is finite
So that's why I write about my present now, so clean
Grounded like a mezzanine
Record raps like I'm a machine
Word to Major, homie,
the wing
Fast flying, freeway driving
Always makes me sing
There's a Duster tryin' to change my tune
Pulling up fast on the right
Rolling restlessly,
the road slowly
So the record gets pushed by Sony
I'm in the middle like monie
And the press say that
My own people disowned me
And the best way back
Is
This is me thinking at 4:43 AM, June 6
Sometimes I wanna say fuck rapping, I need money now
Like should I start trapping? If what I write down
Mainy records low, tryna blow his candle, change the channel
Put it on the news, your lil' bro a fool
Fuck a truce, double homicide, we went up a deuce
The ghettoes are fed up, we got the arms in the air
One two, watch out for the man in blue
Three four, I keep it raw and hardcore
Five six, you're
night, cut the fight
Do what's right and you just might
Win a battle you never fought
Just by checkin' this record you bought
Over
and back up off him
Kweli spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee
The real emcee, that your favorite rapper used to be
One by one I knock 'em out like Schoolly
Step off the stage to shouts of "Kweli boomayyay!!"
See these four emcees came to get down
Rearrange the rap game, change ya whole sound
N**** YOU,
'Til we all got triangles on our wall
He ain't just rapping for the platinum, y'all record
I recall, 'cause I really been there before
Four scores
'Til we all got triangles on our wall
He ain't just rapping for the platinum, y'all record
I recall, 'cause I really been there before
Four scores
The price of fame I think I paid, want my change I done gave
Everything in my possession for my seconds on the stage
For my name up in lights
Jesus told you niggas to do?
Work for four dollars and twentry-five cents an hour
And y'all ain't stealing shit?
Well you know me, I started stealing
word to V.Roy
I'm with the killers forever, the trenches is in me
The Grammys can't change me for nothin'
I like the bitches who let me just offer
I couldn't meet them so you cut off my fingers
One by one
One by one
I'm like a broken record
I've got a needle scratching me
It injects
]
Mar, kie the original
Everytime I see V, yo I got material
I was just kickin funky records for you
Cause I'm down with the rhythm of a, ah one chk two
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