Yeah, the diesel truckers, with, Kool Keith
Marc Live, Jacky Jasper
We come international, and rational
[Kool Keith]
I saw the Grammy`s, I wasn`t impressed with that
A lot of stylists overdressed that
Was I wrong? Who was the best at
Two cases on Stoli`s, eight thousand for this man you owe me
I left the V.I.P. section lonely
Me, white folks, Don Juan played the back
The women chose me over guess who? Pretty Toney
Kid I got your lady signed to Sony
Girls tell Bobby I`m the real tenderoni
New York`s best verse carrier
You better scoop her, before I marry her
Award winnder without rims
Tap your dimepiece without spinners
JVC, LL soapbox with the antennas
I get hard on aspirin cups filled with Guinness
The Ernie Onassis, with masters, with Marc and Jack Jasper
Sunday clean gators on the pastor
Go `head player, youse a wallflower
Scared to talk to her, I`ma ask her
Rep it at the casino, walk in your presence
Miami`s biggest problem
Whack rappers want me out the game like Al Pacino
[Chorus 2X: Jacky Jasper]
We pop bottles, washed up models (bamboozled)
Runny makeup, celebrities, uncensored
Paparazzi, Sunset Boulevard
Forty-second street, Las Vegas, South Beach
[Jacky Jasper]
I seen a lot of rappers turn soft, I turn my TV off (uh)
And thugs got commercials (yea) thugs in commercials (uh)
And everybody`s chick turned gladiator and shit
No pimps, no hustlers, yo where`s your whips
No Maybachs, no Lambos on the field
Towncar, ridin Music Express
And yo` the winner is - effervesence (that`s right)
Your rhymes didn`t win, your rhymes didn`t get shit (oh!)
They like the way you move in tight suits (that`s right)
And gay-ass 70 boots
You the best example, yo the industry is whack yo
Now you can bet your label and your Phantom on that
See rappers don`t want no parts of men
They zombies, +28 Days+ all over again
Everybody`s scared, runnin again
They bonecrush ya, monkeys in the cage again
[Chorus]
[Marc Live]
Celebrity nigga, broke a MC pimp nigga
Show up on the scene (nigga)
Trackin cream, so obscene
You can`t come clean, fast money I fiend
I know the score, your mother-in-law
My money is more, she`s leavin him poor
I know the game, ask Rick James
I don`t complain and I won`t explain
Go fetch, I draw the sketch
You won`t catch, I got the niche (bitch)
The chips won`t switch, she`s not a bitch
I`ll take the chips, she`s on my dick
They flowin in, steppin on up the money out
Hiccup, bitch shut the fuck up (what)
What is wrong, income`s right
The street`s my wife, the street`s my life, uh
[Chorus]
