My Soul - Coolio

You can try to throw salt, but I keep my game face on

And the only thing on your mind is stalkin' more digits than a telephone

Me and thirty-nine theives jumpin' out of white Hummer

From Compton (Wooh-wooh-wooh), while your crew get dumb and dumber

Grew up straight out of low cash like CB fo'

Now I got dough and you got one night stands like gangsta, yo

See on the low it’s all gravy

But the threat of this new world order is about to drive me crazy

And all you want is the Lex and gold Visa

Bomb singles and stackin' your chips like Pringles

While my rhymes jack for platinum plaques

Quicker than one time Jack Black’s

I twist sacks and sip yac

Plus, the Invisible Man got my back like a spine

So, why you all up in mine?

Keep the money and the fame cause all I really wanna hold

Is my artistic flavor and control of my soul

Ain’t no tellin

Most women are still waitin' and sellin'

Most of my homies is ex-felons (Convicts)

In two decades, rap went from Planet Rock

To crack rock

Now, everybody got a Glock

And it don’t stop

Till another brother drop

That’s why I poured out a little drink for the homie Pac (Rest In Peace)

What’s a thin line between love and hate?

A million dollars in the bank and you still can’t escape

It’s a small world, after all, you’re clausterphobic, you can’t breathe

So, store your ball like Christopher Reeve

It’s the hater in you that makes you criticize me

Cause if you handled your business then yo ass would see

Nineteen-ninety-seven is still crackin'

I’mma get the ladies out their seat like this was a car jackin'

They say the game is to be sold, not told

You can keep your bankroll, I want control of my soul

My jaws flip across sixteen bars like Dominique Dawes

But without no flaws, never broke a M.C.

law

See, I was servin' wack rappers at the school

When Bruce Lee was scrappin' with Kareem Abdul

You got into triple beams and guns you ain’t gon shoot

I seen a million rappers in the same Versace suit

Or, the same pair of locs, that’s probably why you’re broke

And your backstage and your ghetto pass got revoked

Scrappin' or rappin' what you want to happen?

If I ever come up short you the first one I’m jackin'

It’s theives in the area like aircraft carrier’s

We’re launchin' F-15's

And Anti-Wack Maf Machines

Michropone, sittin' on my vocal chord

Sendin' busta’s to the crossroads like Thuggish Ruggish Bone

It’s the C-O-O-L-I-O, well I, won’t fold

When I’m controllin' my soul

Chorus: Repeat 1 ½ times