And, and bass up the track a bit 'Cuz I, I'm here I hear that boom bish boom, knowhatI'msayin'?
Yeah, yeah, you know the Common Sense, soul the De La Get all playas We the sayers
Huh and the bizness, hah Gonna do it like it hot Like the streets
I speak of God theories, no need to be high Always exhale the facts 'cause I don't lie Play the man's game, to bounce off my losses So I can earn the acres, the houses, yeah, the
Of course, much greater than your Benx or your Lex The engine to my comprehension is just too Much too complex, EFX be live Das Making moves South, to avoid the chaos
And never flaunt the 'cuz dime-getters be gazin' They call me Luther Van, they say my style is so I'm fazin' those who're supposed to have the last even when I'm gone, I'm reappearin' in the after
I haveta send respects to real money Do not connect us with those champaign sippin' fakers Taste the quarter pound spice from Chi-town Now that prove, you're so full, you can't even move
I'm the D to the O, the V to the E And can't another cook these delicacies I'm the P L U, the G to the One Walk around the earth, making money, having fun
And I'm the C to the O, M O N I sit and think with a drink how I'm gonna win I'm the C to the O, M O N I sit and think a drink
Do you be a MC? Or do you wanna serve? Do you wanna be dope? Or do you deal it? acrylic, I feel it, I'm the style molester I do a show, get Extra P's like the Professor
In fact I get more hoes than Tessa, game like a Refa-ree in control of my Destiny, in the best of three out of anybody ass at NBA Live, rappers
Take a like Greg Lougainis with his bitch-ass Rather be in alley, than at the click with gators Not a hater of the players, I'm more a coach or an owner I used to love her but now I her
At one in rhyme, I thought I lost my erection But I got it back with the resurrection, blessings rhymes, old man who called him traitor Big Com Stradamus, niggaz, styles I
I'm the C to the O, M O N I sit and think with a drink how I'm gonna win And I'm the D to the O, the V to the E And can't no other brother cook these
I'm the P L U, the G to the One Walk around the planet earth, making money, fun Walk around the planet earth, making money, fun Walk around the earth, making money, having fun
I'm the most from the coast of the flav' Droppin' more knowledge than litter, on the New York me, wonder why, in the place to be Certified, as superior, MC
While others explore to it hardcore I make it hard for wack MC's to even inside the door 'Cause these is rhyming, some timing And when we get to racing on the mic, line up to see
The killing, with stained egos on the ceiling My rhymes escalates like black death Over musical plates, played as the rule Kids thinking, stepping to the Soul, you're labeled
Who to drop jewels but for now you do the catching I don't worry on what crew you run or what section of You reside, you're not a man So I don't it mandatory, taking your pride
But I 'cause my man says, Soul for the life You cried, "Keepin' it real", yet you should try keepin' it understanding microphone mathematics Which the currency in temporary world status
And one shows, he posed threat to this one This one will make one into none Simple equation, zero, you shouldn't hero If you can't stand strong the island I'm from
Now I'm the P L U, the G to the One Walk around the planet earth, money, having fun Yeah and I'm the C to the O, M O N I sit and think with a drink how I'm gonna win
And I'm the D to the O, the V to the E And can't another brother these delicacies See can't another cook these delicacies See can't another cook these delicacies
Ah, that's how, how I'm supposed to do my thing, huh triple it, alright That's how we do it, all the way from Strong to Chicago The type of flow Yeah, it's fluent and we don't need to flow no
To my man Mos Def, yo, he To my man Enola, yo, he's And to my kin de Calhoun, yo, nonstop Yo that MP, yo, she's nonstop
And to that crew Camp Lo, yo, they And to nigga Pop Life, yo, he's nonstop And to my Fudd Love, you know he nonstop My brother Lucky and Pert, yo, they
And to my man Joe Buck, you know he And my man Extra P, yo, he's And my man Mike Divine, you he nonstop That kid called Baby Paul, yo, nonstop
And to the Jazzyfatnastees, yo, you're And my peoples Beatminerz, man nonstop And to my man Mr. Bug, you you're nonstop And yo, Litro, yo, he's
And to, my dean The Green, yo, you're And to my man Paul, yo, he's nonstop And to that man Kid Capri, yo, you And A Tribe Called Quest, man, they And don't the Jungle Beez, yo, they nonstop
Let me you a little something about Soul, tell 'em son I be a piece of the East coast, so a toast to Plug Wonder, why back in the day who his words in jigga So when I ran a phrase in June, you didn't catch it December
I'm a member of them kids the inner city Giving you kitties audible treats, you be aching for More than a pagan holiday Not from the PJ's, yet I got something to say