Alchemist, you know me, man I'm the type of nigga that write rhymes Right on the spot in the studio soon as I hear the track You know what I'm sayin'? Word, but I wanted to bring a couple of books To the studio today, man, I found these shits Up in the crib, man, in boxes, man I don't even remember when I was writing these shits Or what's in these shits, man, probably a bunch of bullshit Fuck it, check it How can I trust you when I can't trust me? Picture myself a old man, a O.G. Some niggas will conversate with liers all day, time pass Nah, lemme start somethin' else Soul on ice, death threats given by clowns I guess livin' is prison when you live around clowns I'm hexed, cursed, worse I been blessed first I thought I was abnormal 'Cause I would overcome any task called to So there it is, I'ma prince, I'ma get slain Some do minor shit, swear they on the top of they game Ya rhymin' is called 'Vagina Monologue' It kinda supports theories of scary niggas Who should lie in the morgue Rarely y'all come in contact with the real Since Pun passed, he was the last shine of sun I could feel Yo, said, "There's a few left since music's expressions of life" Damn, I wish I took more time to write in my Book of Rhymes Oh shit, Tina, been lookin' for this bitch number, damn No, this rhyme is weak, this is weak I remember this bullshit, right here My Book of Rhymes Gandhi was a, what the fuck? Gandhi was a fool, nigga, fight to the death The US Army is a school that teach ya plights of conquest I wonder when I wrote this, nah it's weak The money's ya religion, sky's the limit, live life Numbers is big business, makes the poor live trife The glimmers of hope provoke those without dollars to dream Through your existence become wealthy, knowledge is king Pimps and card, sharks, thiefs, murderers with hard luck Addicts and fiends, prostitutes passin' for teens is my society Cops that shoot blacks is routine for notoriety Grow up watchin' well dressed niggas with charms Beautiful ladies on their arms Dangerous new cars was my fantasy for Nas Rubbin' my lips with Campophenique Still behind the ears wet, turned out to be pioneer's vets Amongst hustlers, crack sellers and liers and squares Nah, that was weak there My people be projects or jail, never Harvard or Yale Pardon me, type in my two way while I'm chargin' my cell It's hard to be iced up with Gucci, God, poverty's real I can't fight you 'cause you would sue me, niggas be groupies I see imitators tryin' to make albums spittin' my style And they don't even realize that I notice they stealin' Nas' shit I pump some Rick James with that Teena Marie My Nina lean on me like Swoop, it's crap This can't be my Book of Rhymes This can't be my Book of Rhymes, writin' this bullshit! My Book of Rhymes Nah, neva that, fuck that, aww, why you laughin' Alchemist? Huh, you a funny nigga, nah, yeah My Book of Rhymes I'm tellin' you, I'ma come up with some new shit now Fuck that, I'ma write again now, fuck that I musta been high on some shit What the fuck is this? Look, how we treat pregnancy, women in the 'hood Our values so low, our values are no good Things our mothers told us, we shoulda heeded 'Cause now we need it, we older, almost able to I'm jealous of you, how come you so beautiful? Smelling fresh, youthful, intelligent while I'm stressin' this shit Aiyo, I envy you 'cause all you do is smile and things come your way "Such a innocent child", is what some say I get upset 'cause I just want to be treated the way you are Like a star, not a worry in this world thus far But wait a minute, we both need ya mother's attention I must be crazy, jealous of my own baby infant, kinda crazy © A MAMAN MUSIC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com