what my paper like Money first, fast cars, out come the chicks of they panties and Bras Come on I said come on (Pusha T verse 1 I do hits for my
make a mess for sure I've a heart of gold in the smallest size Leave me in the dark, you never hear me cry More than an illustration Points of articulation Come to life on a brass
whole world know it So if you got beef let the whole world know it One take it to the streets let the whole world know it This the chance for your big
has got it jumpin' Get it from a pro, get it for the low Get you some blow, get it for the nose Get it for the show, get it for the hoes Four wheeler
got my back And we both can laugh And for example, we swift this, lifted up on luck And for complexion like brass and brown skin We of this, built this
ones Memorized by the glory, word life Cut off niggaz who killed Bill but couldn't do nuttin for me Shout 'em out every once in the blue and kid too I
groovy speak out the head, provided for the hardrocks Here to resurrect the ghetto beats for the blocks You can dig the styles cause the styles are for
word like Pastor Ike, this ain't mass but like We ain't congregatin, mashin tonight The boys in blue, I'll show you what the brass is like The perfect
Harlem, through jails and gospel pews Through the class on park and the trash on vine Through Europe and the deep, deep heart of Dixie blue Through savage
if I had all the bread in the world I'd give it all up for one shot at You and Me You know it's really funny how the tables turn I moved forward and thank God for
never comin' up short So fuck what you thought We high profile for this shit, I smile for this shit I stack dough and make all my people just wil' for
you up I'll take the fattest chance Now I've got the answer To a question no one asked So, here's two rules, I got for you Great ones for livin' under
to my wisdom method You need a star for your crescent I got a diablo brass for your atmosphere My a dope mathematics will soak you like incense sincere Uh, baby for
Bye bye boy, yeah Children play, women produce Kids killing kids, just for the juice Now Africa, is lookin' for the truth But it's gonna take a while
most of them real Stronghold brass, forty slain workin' in the field But a hundred years later, I learned about my roots And how they traded in there white sheets, for badges and blue
Raekwon Yeah One-two, one-two, nigga Line for line, line for line How we get down wit da rhyme Yo, it be a line for line, line for line This is how we
singer's just a farce He's got no healing formulas He's got no cure-all for our scars He's got no bra-strap for our bras And our sagging tits no longer
van Or two or three old cars Drivin' everywhere. Then the sharks showed up and circled A big manager for Sting Said sign here, boys, you'll all be stars We'll go for that brass
