Fort Minor, Minor, Minor, Minor...
Uh, and ink pens I use to write in color I think in To paint a picture with every that I speak in Yeah, the gallery is the then I... I... I... I...
Yes, and gentlemen We have a special guest for you evening Ghost, you
Yo, I verbally pictures, I'm the hood's best storyteller This about a young boy dealing the older fellas Promised him the you see on TV He ran packs across town like CD's And big chains, new clothes, Nikes and Stacking too much loot to squeeze in a box Saving, he promised his mom a in Atlanta And his pops got through debt, he was a dealer So he jazz, fox jump off the suit cases No more cross-town, now he's crossing them and new faces, not knowing who to trust So when the kicked open they scream "This is a bust" "Is it a set up?", it seems funny, a scuffle out He got hit, dropped the spitting blood out of his mouth He walked four blocks to die trying to And now all left is his mom screaming "God Why?"
Uh, and ink pens I use to write in every I think in To paint a picture every rhyme that I speak in Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...
Yeah, yeah, let me by saying "Shut the fuck up!" Let my begin by saying I think this man knew what he had in store He opened the door and found the bag under the Not a peep, working a lot, get the flame, aim, pop Open the box and off out the back of the pawn shop Scoping the lot, the cops hadn't seen the plates on his car He felt like he been hustling so hard like a he pumped a cold heart it cool like Humphrey Bogart, put the rings on his chain attached by both parts He did the drop, one ring in a bag, envelope, all the he had Left the money and the ring in a exhale Two weeks by, got a box in the mail In the box was a bullet of gold Melted from the ring, recast with two rings and a band And he stared at it sitting in the palm of his And sat down next to a that sat on the nightstand It was his in the picture on his side With the ring on the finger on the week she died As he looked in the reflection, at those so red He put the bullet in a gun and put it right in his like that
Uh, and ink pens I use to write in color I think in To a picture with every rhyme that I speak in Yeah, the gallery is the beat I... I... I... I... Uh, yeah, uh
Fiasco!
You he didn't have enough power in his thrusters to muster Warp 5 Plus if he pushed it, the cells could rupture then they would die Then the would suffer but he knew he had to try But he couldn't risk it, put the in the escape pod and kissed it And told her goodbye, she started to cry, but he knew if he could 'em He could buy her some time and she could make it out Turn the suit and got prepared for the stand off Space had blew one of the hands off Damaged laser cannons and he got the system And he faced the whole fleet, seeping through his teeth The saga in the seven planet wars the sword and then he charged forward His eyes flashed the cracked cockpit glass He let out a laugh and then all she heard was a like
Uh, and ink pens I use to write in every color I in To paint a picture with every that I speak in Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...
Yeah, and gentlemen has been a Fort Minor production Ghostface! Fiasco!
Uh, spraypaint and ink
It's an expression coming out of a can of paint Look, the easiest way for the average kid to paint things using himself as the meaning of it You gonna get into the gallery soon, man Why? I'm not gonna be one day Why do you always say Cause true