[chorus x4]
Scared money
Don't make none
Callin haves and have nots, every cell on the block, every NGH with a trigger, empty barreled or cocked, march in like parade of scars if you been stabbed or shot. Son, we smokin these batons right in front of these cops.
Callin out to the kids, all my NGHs with bids, whether suited up or booted up or stuck in the mid. You can download it or boot it up, my pupils unlid, all my students of the underground with record store gigs.
Callin out to the girls, the inventors of worlds, the intelligence of relevance and elegant pearls, pour like nectar from the lotus big bang opus in swirls. Down the sweaty backs of hairyweave tracks and dried jheri curls.
Callin out to the pimps hat cocked slump with your gimp on your wrist with just a twist of lime to go with that limp
Hold your cup up so this ancient rain can find its way in. Let these NGHs know the cost of reaching heavenly bliss. Yes.
[chorus x8]
Scared money
Don't make none
It was all a dream. It was all a dream. I used to fantasize I was Malcolm or Martin in the pulpit, the ballot or the bullet.
I swear I used to pray to change back the year when NGHs spoke of motherships with space helmets for hair. Well, now what have we here? Thugs and poets.
What we seem to have in common is we're common as air.
Yes, the lowest rung of anthems sung each day every year. From check cashing to latest fashions while they ration out fear. But I'm fearless.
Sometimes I feel alone: homeless. Peerless. What will it take to shake the land for everyone to hear this?
I can't bear this! Born of pages torn from ancient prayer lists - Descendent of the womb. The lotus blooms when I come near it.
I declare it time to realign Karat to carrot - what was olden remains golden - sceptered tongue I dare to share it.
All who hear it know at once
Royal Highness over blunts
Thug of thugs
Pimp of pimps
Golden tongue and Ivory Fronts
Grind and hustle
NGHs know the heart is just a muscle.
I'm flexin now. You made some papes - I wrote upon I trust you will invest 'cause chances are the game is just a test. Professor of the truth talk real truth emeritus.
I am the King as I command my son to dance and sing
We celebrate our earthly fate.
My daughter gives me wings. We are one descendants of the mothership and tongue.
Southern trees have born strange fruit. Hail! Salute! A troop well hung.
So come along everyone's invited: Heroes of distinguished paths, victims and conquered, those who stand alone, and those who stand unfettered...
Fuck the bullshit whether from the Hill or from the pulpit. Today, I put my money on the fall of every culprit.
The Truth prevails! When all else fails drug dealers make the music... ..Then guess who's back? Your souls answer to greenbacks, hoes, and crack.
The chord that strung from anthems sung right now to way way back. The legacy of Hennessy distilled to brownish black.
Rolls off the tongue a pointed gun, fake NGH's best stand back. The trumpet calls and yes, yes, ya'll the Emperor's changed his hat.
