Power, Money & Influence - Jean Grae, Talib Kweli, Guru

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 tycon, whether in person or slick right on Crisp Nikes on, six niggaz 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 laber 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 as a parent

Every track is a murder but could treat it like lobonic

The play that graze here, now MC’s in a daze mind

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 niggaz 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 niggaz 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 apshalts

Servin, protectin the half, beatin on the half not

Niggaz talk greasy in the magazines

'Till they track down and you hear the sounds of loaded magazines

Havin dreams 'till they ribs got a gat in between

Passion for cream, make a nigga wanna splatter your spleen

That shit is mean