| I don't care, as long as the bassline's pumpin | |
| The drumline bangin away | |
| Make one move and | |
| I'll blow you away | |
| One false move and | |
| I'll blow you away [Black Thought] | |
| Yo - I don't really know but somebody said that the | |
| O.G. flow, it could fuck witcha head | |
| And the po-lice know that the green black and red too strong to con-trol, they study what | |
| I said Dig it - my name is ' | |
| Riq, and when | |
| I'm on the mic | |
| I'm known to spit somethin that these | |
| MC's hate | |
| I couldn't care less what you feel what you say | |
| Cause I gotta put it to you in my own special way - | |
| I'm a MONS | |
| TER! You know | |
| I'm certified sick | |
| I came from the corner where nobody got shit | |
| Took the cards | |
| I was dealt, turned it into hot spit | |
| Now I'm not only a passenger, | |
| I'm in the cockpit | |
| Been a long time comin, | |
| I was caught in the scramble of cats, tryin to do the same thing that they man do | |
| Eagles born to fly, real is made to ramble "A Dangerous Mind," | |
| I'm a prime example [Chorus] [Black Thought] | |
| Superfans wanna run up on me sparkin the ground up | |
| You need to fall back, could be | |
| NARC's around us | |
| You in a hot area for marchin powder | |
| If you holdin chowder, just walk without it | |
| Them real crook brothers don't talk about it | |
| They never make a move 'til they thought shit out kid | |
| I knew a lot of men who did bids for mayhem | |
| They made a lot of money, they money never made them | |
| The game of survival is filled with rivals | |
| Knives and fo'-five slugs flyin in spirals | |
| The wicked is diseased and it ain't all viral | |
| Could be greed and gluttony bubblin inside you | |
| Dawg, follow your pride, the rhythm'll guide you | |
| Yo, follow them guys, them niggaz'll rob you | |
| And have you up in somethin that dont' really involve you | |
| But you don't give a fuck you wanna pump the volume, | |
| I know [Chorus] [Black Thought] | |
| Yo, aiyyo the waistline thumpin, the face kinda jumpin the game | |
| Lookin sweeter than a bassline bumpin | |
| Don't come 'round me sparks and waste time frontin | |
| Them trick ass marks'll get the eight-five dumpin | |
| It ain't really bout nothin - | |
| Philly just love cuttin | |
| They shut shit down before the law start shuttin | |
| Get your route right cousin - be out nightclubbin relaxed | |
| And wanna get lights out tonight brother, perhaps | |
| It's the percussion that keeps shit, kinetic | |
| For some it ain't as fame, more sweet the street credit | |
| Some cats that play dirty didn't live, to regret it | |
| But move to the music he can live through the record | |
| I'm a Philly boss player, a dope rhyme sayer | |
| It's Black | |
| Ink back gettin cake by the layer by the stack, comin at us, get your weight right yeah | |
| If not, you makin a mistake right there, f'real [Chorus - 2X] |
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