All my jail
niggas...Big Lake...whattup nigga...this goes out to the big
dreamers...ain’t nothin’ new man.. we been doin’ this...this shit gon’
keep goin’ on forever baby...
[Chorus] 2x
No ideas original, there’s nothin’ new under the sun
it’s never what you do but how it’s done
what you base your happiness around, material women and large paper
that means you’re inferior, not major
If niggas could look inside my mind you’ll find where bodies are buried,
first look past the hotties who dimes
go to the center, enter with caution
pass the braincell graveyard where weed’s responsible for memory losses
witness the horrific, the stench will make you nauseous
see what I seen, everyday I live with this torture
lightin’ spliffs up to stay high like Twenty-Four hours
sleep with my heat, wash with my gun in the shower
my tongue is power, it thrills women, kills demons
long as I’m still breathin’ I’m still winnin’, I’ll teach ‘em
the hood converted from trey bags to Twenties of girl
everybody had money, every summer was real ill
Four-finger rings, dope dealers, Kane
no half-steppin’ with flat tops, but Rakim reigned
radios on card tables, Beneton, the Gods buildin’
as for todays mathematics, we Allahs children
and this was goin’ on in every Newyork ghetto
kids listened, five-percenters said it’s pork in jello
we coincide, we in the same life
maybe a time difference on a different coast but we share the same
sunlight.
[Chorus] 2x
Your part of the World might be light colors and gangs
while on my side Brothers will murder for different things
but it all revolves around drugs, fame, and shorties
stuck for your bling, stripped of your chain, the same story
from Czechoslovakia to Texas metropolis
the treachorous rastas and the Mexican mafias
be scrappin’ with tats on their back, violent wars
nothin’ less than a lethal injection if ever caught
court rooms, eagles, and flags, American style
while in our World the ghetto stays incredibly foul
watchin’ for paint chips, don’t want no led in your child
but them gangstas put led in your child, the bezzys be out
the chain be like a Hundred K
shinin’ since Roxanne Shante made runaway
thats been a minute, genesis is deep, my features are that of a God
it’s not a fassad, it’s a fact these rappers wanna be Nas
my exodus doesn’t exist, I’ll never leave the streets
it’s all in my mind even when asleep
I’m duckin’ Nines in my dreams
sireens, wide awake, why’d I think it would change?
can’t hide when you’re famous or even try to do the same things
like somebody’s always watchin’
my life, before I walk out the door I size up every options
eyes cut every direction, it’s like God or guns
which is better protection? can’t decide, thats a hard one
I mean they wanna see me in prison
their chain’s bamboozled
headline reading “Rapper dead from a Man shooting”.
[Chorus] 2x
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