Fort Minor, Minor, Minor, Minor...
Uh, spraypaint and ink I use to in every color I think in To paint a picture with every rhyme I speak in Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...
Yes, and gentlemen We have a guest for you this evening Ghost, you
Yo, I verbally pictures, I'm the hood's best storyteller This about a young boy with the older fellas him the lives you see on TV He ran packs town like rhyme CD's And big chains, new clothes, Nikes and Stacking too much loot to squeeze in a box Saving, he his mom a crib in Atlanta And his got killed through debt, he was a dealer So he staged jazz, fox jump off the suit No more cross-town, now he's crossing states 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 funny, a scuffle broke out He got hit, dropped the cases blood out of his mouth He four blocks to die trying to survive And now all that's is his mom screaming "God Why?"
Uh, spraypaint and ink I use to in every color I think in To paint a picture with every rhyme that I in Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...
Yeah, yeah, let me begin by "Shut the fuck up!" Let my begin by saying I don't this man knew what he had in store He opened the door and the bag under the floor Not a peep, working a lot, get the flame, aim, pop the box and take off out the back of the pawn shop Scoping the lot, hoping the cops hadn't the plates on his car He felt like he been hustling so like a demon he pumped a cold heart Play it cool 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 the money and the ring in a slow exhale Two weeks by, got a box in the mail In the box was a bullet of gold Melted down from the ring, recast with two and a band And he at it sitting in the palm of his hand And sat down to a picture that sat on the nightstand It was his wife in the picture on his the ring on the finger on the week that she died As he in the reflection, at those eyes so red He put the bullet in a gun and put it right in his head that
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 gallery is the then I... I... I... I... Uh, yeah, uh
Fiasco!
You know he didn't have enough in his thrusters to muster Warp 5 Plus if he pushed it, the fuel cells could rupture then 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 to cry, but he knew if he could distract 'em He could buy her some and she could make it out alive Turn the suit and got prepared for the stand off mind had blew one of the hands off Damaged laser cannons and he got the system And he faced the whole fleet, blood seeping his teeth The final saga in the seven planet the sword and then he charged forward His eyes flashed behind the cracked cockpit He let out a laugh and then all she heard was a blast
Uh, and ink pens I use to write in every I think in To a picture with every rhyme that I speak in Yeah, the gallery is the beat I... I... I... I...
Yeah, ladies and This has been a Fort Minor Ghostface! Fiasco!
Uh, and ink pens
It's an expression coming out of a simple can of Look, it's the way for the average kid to paint things using himself as the meaning of it You gonna get the gallery there soon, man Why? I'm not be famous one day Why do you say that? Cause it's