Guru, Talib Kweli, Jean Grae - Power, Money and Influence lyrics

Power, money and influence
I had a taste of it, now I'm all into it
The game ain't over 'till I get my share
'till I have my run, this here is my year

Man, I'm a icon
Whether in person or click Nikon
Crisp Nikes on, six niggas with sick pythons
Right around your area
Face close like a scared
Straight playin your host
You get bitched out
This ain't fluffin a rang
This clip ain't bang you sittin lame duck
Shittin on the names stuck
I vow this year, power's mine
If I gotta sketch up my name
Empowering rhymes
If I gotta attend jail just
To boost up the sales
I know a label owner that I'd
Love to bruise up for bail
I know my family got it
They pull together but it's amniotic
I mean baby like askin for a name spot it
The talent, the influental and erotic
Put on the back burner
But potential is apparent
Every track is a murder but
Could treat it like bubonic
The plague that Grae's here, now
I'm seizing the day, it's mine

In one second flat I tear your whole frame
Plus we pack like a stadium does
At a pro game
Got so many ways to end yo glory
Rub you out, shut you down
Then it's end of story
I'm like Robert Horry with a clutch three
You can't touch me, the
Black double oh-seven, nigga trust me
Modern day Ali when it comes to the rhyme
Know how to hold the fort down
When they comin for mine
I'm crafty, I move swift and changeable
Plus I'm aware, of what jealousy and anger do
You can't help yourself then
You can't help me
Can't smell what the truth is
Then you can't smell me
You can tell a million stories
About how gully you are
Then as soon as you finish
I'm be pullin your card
I step so courageously, I rap so amazingly
I guess you could say
That niggas slept on me basically

Jean Grae, Kweli, Guru, for the first time
Let the games begin like Jaceson
Taylor wrote his first rhyme
Technology make niggas lazy
With the Pro Tools
Even you could write your verse in
The booth like you were Jay-Z
A Hollywood between reality tv and rap
Is there ain't no more use
For the classically trained actor
First light bulb ever made is still burnin
They sell the ones that burn out
To take the money you earnin
Word that marijuana grow too natural
To be a cash crop
We have cops at bars, smokin squares
Throwin back shots
They walk the street and bring
The heat to the asphalts
Servin, protectin the haves
Beatin on the have nots
Niggas talk greazy in the magazines
'Till they track down and you hear
The sounds of loaded magazines
Havin dreams 'till they lips got
A gat in between passion for cream
Make a nigga wanna splatter your spleen
That shit is mean