Lyrics:
it
Listen kid yo, you was born to be a pawn but I'm a bishop
Back to the novel, you Son, it's logical
How you figure god, what, flow on the track,
bank account
Shoot my shot, I'ma make it count
(Hey there, uh, kid)
(We've been looking for this little punk by the name of Yung Pinch)
(Uh, he's
home
Now that daddy's gone
{Scarface:}
Daddy broke before I stepped in this muthafucka
And left the job to be done by my mother's
Little boys and girls, they all love me
Come sit on the lap of I-see-E
And let me tell ya a story or two
About a punk-ass nigga I knew
Named
uh-chikka-um
And this ain't on the pop tip, yo
Are y'all kids tucked in? (Yeah)
Here we go
People in the audience, they cry out, "Ho"
People with a gun,
new york
To break it down to straight english, what the fuck you want?
Remember me? you punk fagot crab emcee
Get your shit broke in half for fucking
silk to sew
We grow and take you back to like afros
And no quittin or gettin jumped by the system
Its all day, all play got verbs and such
And cuts
best step back 'cause I'mma kill, I'ma kill
So, what you thinking, Mr. Raggedy man?
Doing all you can to look like Raggedy Ann
Check you out, punk
uh-chikka-um
And this ain't on the pop tip, yo
Are y'all kids tucked in? (Yeah)
Here we go
People in the audience, they cry out, "Ho"
People with a gun,
got them made by little slaves kids
What are your overheads?
At the end of your life, you're lucky if you die
Sometimes I wonder why we would even
My usual guess is that they chose to digress
Disillusioned by greed, causin you to distress
Just do what's best, clean house, leave out
Them punks
hot
If you're not original rockers you will get shot
Down by the kids neglectin' your art, the stuff you did
Eventually it get so bad puts you to bed
One of the greatest rapper, walk - I'm sayin'
In the field makin' my brick without hayin'
Mad busy kid, nah whip cut here
You, boy, drop your
By indie documentaries
They ain't highlighting no pain
Some documentaries on Channel 4
Are only in it for the fame
We ain't shoeshine boys for
One of the greatest rapper, walk - I'm sayin'
In the field makin' my brick without hayin'
Mad busy kid, nah whip cut here
You, boy, drop your
you'll always be the small things to me
Take my hand and I'll take you to the rock show
I am unashamed that pop punk made me into
The kid I am today
Lets
on as I start to kick it
Cause we're like outlaws striding while suckers are hiding
Jump behind the bush when you see me driving by'
Hanging out my
With the songs we creating and musically relating
Sex, niggas talk by bodies in chalk
Meanwhile, they boot-shaking
On some punk shit, faking
Wait, I
Oh, as the years go by
I just wanna, turn back time
To when I was a kid
Never worried 'bout anything
Now that I have grown old
Full of questions, no
I'm glad to see you
I had a funny dream
You were wearing funny shoes
You were going to a dance
You were dressed like a punk but you are too young
King tee:
Hey! here comes the funk of the future
And i can rock a rhyme from perquorma to hoover
The westside kid, quick to do a bid
Just watch me
females by the dozen
They thought he was crazy, but he wasn't
Brothers would always say the kid don't play
Because he would have even made Dirty Harry's
With the songs we creating and musically relating
Sex, niggas talk by bodies in chalk
Meanwhile, they boot-shaking
On some punk shit, faking
Wait, I
to (Huh?)
Makin' shots at them kids who use to punk you (Huh?)
Repititious rap shit, don't get nowhere play ya mouth whip
And niggaz can't smoke wit' dry
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