We tight like dreadlocks or red fox and ripple
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
We're not balling
We still the same with a little fame
Well, it's the verbal Herman Munster
We holding onto what's golden
Music
We in the game but, yo not to be vain
We're not balling
With Taylor made status and plus favored is automatic
We're not balling, or shot calling
We stay true to the game and never bring it to shame
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
The word enhancer, sick of phony mobsters controllin' the dance floor
*On a stage I rage and I'm rollin'*
*On a stage I rage and I'm rollin'*
Your heart races as we pump you for your chart spaces
I been in dark places, catch you when you stark naked
On any particular surface the pen lands on
We holding onto what's golden
Word power can plow through acres of cornfields
The saga continues, this I won't get into
The taut taces be bringing these hot styles through
Yo
Yo
Steady aim, drum at your head to hit the brain
Big rings, fat chains, and y'all quest for the same
We holding onto what's golden
Work for mines pay me by the hour
*On a stage I rage and I'm rollin'*
We're not balling, or shot calling
'Cause there ain't enough bars to hold the drama that we been through
We're not balling, or shot calling
Some of you bum a few chairs from shock value
The camera stands on, what's the beef?
We holding onto what's golden
We entertain for a mutual game from close range
*On a stage I rage and I'm rollin'*
A little change in the household name but ain't too much changed
I drape off poetic landscapes and shapes
We holding onto what's golden
Then design what have a National Geographic a magic
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
No name, use fame, strictly new to the thang
Paragraphs cut like warm steel, preform ill
Hip Hop
We holding onto what's golden
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
Melancholy mundane so I tame the hot flame
We pass participles, and smash the artist in you
I refrain from salt grains to season up my name
We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in'
I'm labor ready, Rhode Scholar for the dollar
Illustrate the paper space off the pens that paint
*On a stage I rage and I'm rollin'*
We're not balling
The Cooley High cold chief high post techniques
