Hi-Tek, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, Dion Jenkins - My Piano lyrics
[Hi-Tek, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, Dion Jenkins - My Piano lyrics]
(Aiyo, Hi Tek, play that tune for me)
Yeah, yo, they wonder why I play my piano
Why I stay low-key
Why I'm always in the studio
Heh, that's what I do
You playing with the game
I play my piano yeah
Is it the love for the money
Or the love for the game?
Is it the love from the honies
Or the love for the chains? Is it because
Most of these little niggas is wack?
Or because the game is yelling
"Bring that real shit back"?
Is it because of the limelight I'm
Just trying to be famous?
Is it cuz the game dying and
I'm just trying to save it?
Maybe I'm just successful
So much I won't be cool with 'em
Maybe it's because I'm crazy
Just in love with my music hi Tek
They wonder why I play my piano
You can't deny it if it's in you
Get that money, that monero
Wait any longer, it will stress you
Aiyo, flying through to Aspen
In Claiborne glasses burning a Churchill
A bad bitch dumping the ashes
It's Bailey's on ice with big straws
Mongoloid rocks is gleaming while the twin
Glocks stuffed in my drawers
Jadakiss baldy with chicks on me
Bricks on me french
German murder, Swiss Army
You can never snitch on me
I'm too strong, I'm spinning my web
Across town
In rough places and black alleys
Getting that bread
If I go broke I'll sell slabs of soap
Cheap bags of smoke
Told y'all don't fuck with Tone Loc
It's a Staten Island thing
You could ask Alabin
We wilding without that guap
We become very violent
Until then, I play the piano
Luciano on the bass
Mariano on the block with the saves
I'mma grind 'til my seeds is grey
Still young when I'm eighty
Poppin Cialis and fuck all day (Huh)
Got the hood jumping, Champion sweats
Nike Flight suit, boots on
'bout to put it in in the 'jects
Streets love killas, brothers with swords
Suede front, sprayed pumps
Lobbies where the losses is bought
New shotties for the youngsters
Good trees, sit in the weeds
White T's on looking for Munsters
Everybody punched in, it's lunchtime
Look at the line, yo I moulded this design
See my gunsmiths gun cocks
We carry two four-five, trooper tight
But got that gun that shoot stupid fire
Bagging up work, I'm back on the Earth
About to make something happen fast
Put a stack in my shirt
Yo, all the coverage you could hear
Mobster status, yeah, year of the great ones
A griz bear
Get mines, you know a nigga rip lines
It's part of the character
But other than that yo I'm on bitch time
Yeah, jump up, beat em down, get the step up
Yeah, yo, they wonder why I play my piano
Why I stay low-key
Why I'm always in the studio
Heh, that's what I do
You playing with the game
I play my piano yeah
Is it the love for the money
Or the love for the game?
Is it the love from the honies
Or the love for the chains? Is it because
Most of these little niggas is wack?
Or because the game is yelling
"Bring that real shit back"?
Is it because of the limelight I'm
Just trying to be famous?
Is it cuz the game dying and
I'm just trying to save it?
Maybe I'm just successful
So much I won't be cool with 'em
Maybe it's because I'm crazy
Just in love with my music hi Tek
They wonder why I play my piano
You can't deny it if it's in you
Get that money, that monero
Wait any longer, it will stress you
Aiyo, flying through to Aspen
In Claiborne glasses burning a Churchill
A bad bitch dumping the ashes
It's Bailey's on ice with big straws
Mongoloid rocks is gleaming while the twin
Glocks stuffed in my drawers
Jadakiss baldy with chicks on me
Bricks on me french
German murder, Swiss Army
You can never snitch on me
I'm too strong, I'm spinning my web
Across town
In rough places and black alleys
Getting that bread
If I go broke I'll sell slabs of soap
Cheap bags of smoke
Told y'all don't fuck with Tone Loc
It's a Staten Island thing
You could ask Alabin
We wilding without that guap
We become very violent
Until then, I play the piano
Luciano on the bass
Mariano on the block with the saves
I'mma grind 'til my seeds is grey
Still young when I'm eighty
Poppin Cialis and fuck all day (Huh)
Got the hood jumping, Champion sweats
Nike Flight suit, boots on
'bout to put it in in the 'jects
Streets love killas, brothers with swords
Suede front, sprayed pumps
Lobbies where the losses is bought
New shotties for the youngsters
Good trees, sit in the weeds
White T's on looking for Munsters
Everybody punched in, it's lunchtime
Look at the line, yo I moulded this design
See my gunsmiths gun cocks
We carry two four-five, trooper tight
But got that gun that shoot stupid fire
Bagging up work, I'm back on the Earth
About to make something happen fast
Put a stack in my shirt
Yo, all the coverage you could hear
Mobster status, yeah, year of the great ones
A griz bear
Get mines, you know a nigga rip lines
It's part of the character
But other than that yo I'm on bitch time
Yeah, jump up, beat em down, get the step up