Common - Hungry lyrics

Yo, niggas don't want none of this
Niggas know they can't fuck with this
Turn this shit up just a little more

I walk the night in rhyming armor
Bomb a nigga like a winter coat
Have him on Death Row
Searching for an Interscope
Yet I sparkle like Irene Cara
Symbolize dope, like sirens do terror
Mary Lou just had a
Baby someone else decapitated
Flashbacks of past raps make me
So glad I made it players is getting traded
I drop a gem on, them who's style is jaded
My juice is grated shit is so banging niggas
Say it's gang related
On philosopher's rink of thought
I've skated with precision
Crews is getting split like decisions
Com'a let it ride and collision
Vision like Coleco or intele
I battle stars in stellar
Regions, my thought scheme was
My like my offspring now, it's teething
My reason to rhyme applies to season and time
Seizing the mind, body and regions divine
In mom's cookouts, I'm leaving the swine
Verbal vegetarian, squash beef with Ice Cube
Came in this rap life nude
Now I'm fully clothed with flows
You tricks can't hide behind
Expensive cars and clothes
Old niggas I expose like Luke
Does hoes in videos with classic material
Imperial and rugged like
Got mag, but my slugs a mic
You fake like a smile, like a hug I'm tight
Skip ladies, this is rip a muthafucka night
Auricle air-outs
Niggas don't even run for cover right
Downtown interracial lovers hold hands
I breathe heavy like an old man
With a cold can of Old Style
Hold a Stone Isle profile
Mix between Malcolm X and Sef when I go wild
Hold mics like a second nut
Until the second coming
Humming coming towards you with
Power like forwards do
Hip hop, you my bitch and like a Ford
I'm exploring you some wack niggas be cool
With them I stay cordial
Flow at room temperature
Cats is presumed miniature
Like golf, soft like Tiger Woods
At real nigga angles I've stood
With ways that's geometric
Don't need to rob banks with
Dyke broads to set it
I levitate to the occasion
Lounge like a lyricist
Rhyme wise, you a rest haven
You sat by the door spooked
Like I was Wes Craven
You need to do more deleting and less saving
A praise in hell, raising heaven
As the bill on my pager leavens
What you should have known from day one
You will on day seven
Hungry hip hop junkie in the city