[Chorus - repeat 2x] Yo god, I'm tryin to stack and get a castle Cook lyrical keys in the lab Bag 'em on two inch plates, DATs too Organized rime, time is money Hustle nickels of vinyl Cassettes are dimes and a CD's a twenty
[Verse 1] Yo, I used to roll with thugs who sold drugs and put slugs in dealers who turned squealers The cap pealers *gun shot* high rollers, big money wheelers Niggaz who'll spank a nigga infront of his moms without feelings The transporters, importers and exporters Puttin hits out on P.O's, judges and seargents and news reporters Most of the gods I used to do crimes with ended up in Sing Sing infirmary, gettin their asshole stitched Wifey with a switch, your godfather turned snitch They up north, while we out in New York, tryin to get rich I worked my way up from grinding and measuring Credit card skeems and crimes and embezzling I kept climbin Sugar Hill to get the treasures and Strivin for diamonds and a million dead presidents Some left murder weapons, fingerprints and evidence Got hit with 25, the feds sabotaged their residence
[Chorus]
[Verse 2] Scramblin to get the cream, kept the rap dream Livin on two planes of reality, caught in between Wanted the best of both worlds, chasin material Snake niggaz play the priest, throwin the dirt at my burial My world consisted of sex, lust, money and L's Now I get lifted off Exodus, 20 and 12 My role models were the brothers on the corner who sold bottles Out on parole, the mind and soul of Aristotle Red Hook was like a mafia flick Never got to cop me a brick We used to plot to stick Poppi and shit Sittin pretty in a white land, my man had the right plan Flights to get his head right in white sands Sippin cristal, pimpin a pistol Till his ass got shipped up to Fishcale He used to cop two bricks, watch his chips pile Now he sits in a cell, prayin for a mistrial
[Chorus]
[Verse 3] When DEA rushed the crib, we flushed an ounce on them Handcuffed in the hall and we still tried to bounce on them Hit rock bottom, then we catch another loan shark Scale our rocks, to get a eight ball hit the pawn shop Street dreams weighin a cake on a triple beam Heat skeems, playin for papes, my team crippled feins Investin money into street stocks My peeps used to keep glocks Slap you up and give you speed knots In the diamond district yankin ice chains The gods used to heist trains Then late at night stick the dice games Five bombs of Lah and Rock up in the mailbox C.O's had niggaz sell rocks from their cell blocks Most of the gods got bagged and got indicted Some had open cases out of state and they got extradicted Some tried to fight it, blew trial on their appeal Got uncorrect bails, for smugglin guns and direct sales
[Chorus]
[DJ cuts Nas sample while Bazz ad-libs] "Somehow the rap game reminds me of the crack game"
Wang Chung lyrics