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