Lyrics:
Yeah
And the wise men say
Money is power
Knowledge is power
Pussy is power
And I chase it all by the hour
Money is power
Knowledge is power
Pussy is
bleed from the weed I been smokin.
Keep walking son, I keep the song hostile
Mad weaponry, I bring by the stockpile
Way too deep, my block legendary
walking son, I keep the song hostile
Mad weaponry, I bring by the stockpile
Way too deep, my block legendary
Many MC's tried to creep and got buried
He
Son hold my A.V. let me rock this no-body
Comin' out the closet tryin' to stop my money?
Actin' like you're sweet cause he ain't see me in the streets
Either a rug or Atilla the hun
Either an eager beaver or a son of a bum
I'm a one on one between Caesar and Pun
A student of the music
Uninspired songs
iverson
I give the moon light
And fry the sun
Better move right
End up by god and son
You know the code live by the gun die by the gun too
Show em my
ya never seen
If ya catch up to me
Ya won’t be next to me
By then I’ll move on
To doing some better things
Born & raised in the bronx
But it ain’t my
Dishpan Larry's in his own world
Down by the ferry terminal
When his mother was just only young
She knew she'd have a baby son
A modern day rose-boy
to bail her
Out of jail for drunkenness and fighting
"These sons of bitches" she said
"just because they buy you a few
Drinks they think they can
Get into
only got worse
By the words you spoke yes they hurt
I got burnt by the ones who were close
Question sir
How could a father do that to his son
Make
the hook. Im a grab another pin Ill flip another page.
Tinn.
When emotions run high i turn to music cause it gets me by.
Wether I'm happy or I'm sad.
I just
every last one of 'em
It's gettin' crowded in here, some acts got to go
Let's start by eliminatin' groups that can't flow
I better meal my deal, my
keep gon' sayin' we done enough but we ain't done slidin'
Brodie want that lick back, I got shit whacked, keep my gun by me
Nah, I ain't never heard
like me, get praises by the junkies
You ain't never live like me, split Chi-Chi's with your bunky
Tasteless nigga, CC's all on me and still look bummy
I'm a get my bum rushed
By some fucking faggots who just wanna pick on a fucking runt
Stand by homos till I pull out a fucking gun
And then you'll run
You ain't never count paper 'til your thumbs hurt
You ain't never had to make do wit' bum work
Shit ain't comin' back, you get delirious
It's
stuck in a holster dump quick
Chasing my dick made a bum bitch rich
Stalefish heard she naked in jail flicks
Mamacita
Black widow turned to be a back
a timeshare somewhere
Rock bum wear, beach chair, write a book each year
You can write yourself out of your blessings
Wreck your Lambo the first day just by
You ain't never count paper 'til your thumbs hurt
You ain't never had to make do wit' bum work
Shit ain't comin' back, you get delirious
It's
bugged shit
Tell me what we haven't done
We run you through course son
Leave you understanding what the street life is
But you haters never understand
trust me son
I continue like a saga do, bringing you the drama to
allow you that the chronicle has just begun
[Chorus 2]
"The saga begins"
"The
You'll find it all in the Koran
Just next to the bit that justifies guns
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the bum
Even if it's fun
Even with
trust a nigga that
Forgot where they come from
That's why I'm just always by
Myself from you fuckers
And I know where they be if I tell 'em
"Muhfuckin'
Well, either you're closing your eyes
To a situation you do not wish to acknowledge
Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster
Indicated by
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