RZA, Stone Mecca, Christbearer, Monk112 - Money Don't Own Me lyrics
[RZA, Stone Mecca, Christbearer, Monk112 - Money Don't Own Me lyrics]
My woman, and my money, don't own me
I've got to, keep holding, my own
Heaven, heaven
The dangerous dynamite dosage
Mind full of explosives
Digital brain is the closest to Moses
Civilizing came, the flame inside the hoister
Revitalize the game, the names on the poster
The mask with no cape
The flash'll crush grapes
The dancer on the lap, the ass wit no face
It's shaped like an ace
Say your grace before you taste it
Haste makes waste
Slow down or you ain't wait
The bunny in the car look
Like an Indian squall
The honey's in the jar
The money's in the bra
It's funny hahaha, how dummies, hahaha
Think cuz we call 'em sunny
They can be a star
I implement the instrument
Disintegrate the 10 percent
You entered the square
But you don't know where the circle went
You ain't worth the cent, you cursed
I Birthed the Prince
Drenched the baby from creators
That the nurses sent
You can't still convent
Don't have seven cents
Grave the raven, my birds are heaven sent
Where the brethren went? where
The Reverend went?
I told you these words are heaven sent
It's time to show you how
Them rugged MC's rock
If that's steel you see
It's that steel I pop
If that Benz I walk, it's that Benz I cop
Who rock them white tees first
Get a West Cost props
Can't nobody it better than
The West Coast veteran
Three six letterman, Monk's the name
Black Knights the gang
I'll ignite the flames
Strike my hood up on the wall
And cross out your name
With a K on the end of it
That won't be the end of it
Til them guns is drawn
And you standing on the end of it
Poof be gone, I'mma write that wrong
I'm the shit all by myself
Nobody writes my song
Peep my technique, strictly gangsta classics
Gun talk, nigga, muthafuck theatrics
My flow is matchless
Ain't no way you can surpass this
Level I'm on, better go home
And try to practice
Why yes, am I next to impress
D T-S, bless the best, no cess
Stress, from guess to gold press
The quest to protest, we head the Pro Keds
But this is the new improved shit
'08 from the AMG, '92, bitch
I've got to, keep holding, my own
Heaven, heaven
The dangerous dynamite dosage
Mind full of explosives
Digital brain is the closest to Moses
Civilizing came, the flame inside the hoister
Revitalize the game, the names on the poster
The mask with no cape
The flash'll crush grapes
The dancer on the lap, the ass wit no face
It's shaped like an ace
Say your grace before you taste it
Haste makes waste
Slow down or you ain't wait
The bunny in the car look
Like an Indian squall
The honey's in the jar
The money's in the bra
It's funny hahaha, how dummies, hahaha
Think cuz we call 'em sunny
They can be a star
I implement the instrument
Disintegrate the 10 percent
You entered the square
But you don't know where the circle went
You ain't worth the cent, you cursed
I Birthed the Prince
Drenched the baby from creators
That the nurses sent
You can't still convent
Don't have seven cents
Grave the raven, my birds are heaven sent
Where the brethren went? where
The Reverend went?
I told you these words are heaven sent
It's time to show you how
Them rugged MC's rock
If that's steel you see
It's that steel I pop
If that Benz I walk, it's that Benz I cop
Who rock them white tees first
Get a West Cost props
Can't nobody it better than
The West Coast veteran
Three six letterman, Monk's the name
Black Knights the gang
I'll ignite the flames
Strike my hood up on the wall
And cross out your name
With a K on the end of it
That won't be the end of it
Til them guns is drawn
And you standing on the end of it
Poof be gone, I'mma write that wrong
I'm the shit all by myself
Nobody writes my song
Peep my technique, strictly gangsta classics
Gun talk, nigga, muthafuck theatrics
My flow is matchless
Ain't no way you can surpass this
Level I'm on, better go home
And try to practice
Why yes, am I next to impress
D T-S, bless the best, no cess
Stress, from guess to gold press
The quest to protest, we head the Pro Keds
But this is the new improved shit
'08 from the AMG, '92, bitch
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