Gone girl






Came to city with nothing,

No dame, no diddy, no fucking

Ruthless P

To tell these man who I be

(P I beg u tell these man who u be)

Ok, well tell these man, take a seat




I was born on the bad side,

The thorn in my dads side.

I ain't boasting I'm just warning these rap guys,

The flow is the maglite, shone in the face of these man.

Got them paro, like they bunnin a 8th of that dank,

And for sake of your fam, please don't try me I was made to go ham,

Like my son was Canaan,

Back in the day I was Paul,

In them blacked out ray bans

that Stevie Wears.

I was needing a prayer.

Just me with my brear's,

Think C and DD was there,

Told me the way I sound on CD was rare.

Like the Dead Sea scrolls,

This is deathly cold,

This my path, inshallah I get my minute to speak,

Like caveman your image is weak,

Only difference between Di Vinci and me,

(What's the difference P?)

I been on the street,

this is for my bredders that sleep,

In the day and dream of the nighttime.

About arenas & fine wines.

About Beemers and bright lights.

They tell ya to hold a 9-5,

Not how to roll the dice right, bye.




Bye bye bye bye baby

no more workin them jobs

Bye bye bye bye baby

No more servin them shots




X4




For too long

I let these amateurs reign,

Now it's time,

To get your camera again.

Spit it live from the manor,

Where the man are insane.

Where the grams are exchanged,

Where the savage and saints,

Collide in the nighttime,

Cos grinding that 9-5 is bake,

And bosses take the piss,

They ain't bosses though, bosses take a risk.

And no holidays, for shit.

Cos the money never sleeps,

While u were sunning of the beach,

Spent 10 summers hungry on the street,

Duppying these beats,

Now cuzzy im in beast mode

Used to chill with Gully and De Bow,

Waiting on a reload,

Listening to Rico,

Now I chef it up

Michelin, like bistro 51

This is for the City slum

Where the lift pissy.

And bushi no ichiban (love & honour)

Is worth more then gold,

Cos the money made serpents,

are colds and they'll hold you in a grip,

Colder then the soldiers taking pics,

Out in Abu ghraib.

See when I'm out on road I keep the Tutankhamun face

See I used to be too arms,

Now I'm too calm for these mothfuckers

Used to want new garms new charms,

Now it's new yards for my brothers yeah




No more working them jobs

No more serving them shots

No more working them jobs

No more serving them shots

Bye bye bye bye baby

no more wokin them jobs

Bye bye bye bye baby

No more servin them shots




X8