Cause ain't no fiends coming in between me an my dreams

See what I mean black? I gets the paper")



Microphone thugs flip keys and shit

Remember the 80's when niggas was acting crazy?

The mean streets raised me

I used to live dangerously

Admist crack selling armed dangerous felons

Plus murderers drug spot burglars

Niggas doing anything to acquire that paper

Live the life of crime but got saved by the rhyme

Peace to all my niggas doing time on top of time

Plus the ones gunned down in their prime

I made it this far because of divine design

Diamond chains the sun still outshines

I get you drunk off my drink like that champaigne wine

As long as there's breath left, I father the fatherless

If shit was real Brooklyn would snatch that chain off your chest

Don't fess, we know why you rock that vest

Hard on records, but really pussy, check it

I do this for me, and not the paper, strictly 100%



("Cause ain't no fiends coming in between me an my dreams

See what I mean black? I gets the paper")



It started way before Super Rhymes

Peace to mom dukes for enduring hard times

God bless all the victims of my past life crimes

I do this for the ghetto youth living like Good Times

Flipping rhymes saved me from the obvious traps

In '97 studio hustlers puch crack on wax

And breaking backs, but faking jacks

If it wasn't for contracts, they wouldn't bust caps

So, destroy your people and collect huge stacks

Fat axe, and platinum plaques

Come bring it back, rewind it that old gangster bullshit

Got the youth running around criminal minded

Not a player hater, just don't chase the paper

Got a little deal so some heads caught the vapors

So stupid motherfuckers throw your guns in the air

To all my niggas that ain't make it past their 19th year

I do it for me, and not the paper, stictly 100%, nah mean?



("Cause ain't no fiends coming in between me an my dreams

See what I mean black? I gets the paper")



Sinister plots, every week who got shot

Spots like the Enterprise kept the neighborhood hot

Niggas bugging out so some receive toe tags

Resting up north with fag or sporting shit bags

When I think back it's so sad

All the niggas that I had, who'd ever figure that it'd get so bad?

So I retreat with a pen and a pad

Hide your chain when you ride the train

For writing rhymes about automatic weapons

I'd rather steer the youth in the right direction

Drop a bomb, destroy the temple's ?sen section?

Little girls already sexing

Hard rock shorties is flexing

But I stick to my lessons, no stress

Cause if shit was real, Brooklyn would snatch that chain off your chest

Don't fess, we know why you rock that vest

Hard on records, but really pussy, check it

I do this for me, and not the paper, strictly 100%, know what I'm saying?



("Cause ain't no fiends coming in between me an my dreams

See what I mean black? I gets the paper