[ VERSE 1: 8Ball ]

Tell me what's goin on, damn, I need help to see

I have chains on my brain from the strain of the

Mental corruption eruptin through this industry

All I see is New York rappers back and forth on BET

See, I'm the first true southern funkadelic preacher

Drink a 'yac and smoke a blunt and watch it get deeper

But not so deep I have to perpetrate to gain respect

Instead of judgin me you need to get yourself in check

And I'm not gonna be the wanna-be you want to see

Oh no, I cannot sell my soul



[ VERSE 2: MJG ]

MJG for the Nine-Fo, what's it gonna be?

Another year for the p-i-m-p in the street

Yes, it's me, the one who clocks when it's time to get explicit

It's comin from the truth when I kick it

So dear critic, you thinkin on terms of how it needs to be
Hooker In A Bottle Christina Parody Lyrics
I'm a hoooeee... Yes I am, baby I wear skimpy clothing It's very tight I work all hours of the night Waiting for someone To pay me You probably see me everywhere I don't even wear clean underwear My pimp doesn't care (pimp doesn't care) I'm a hoooee... My pimp says "Work, bitch!" hooooeee... But my heart is saying no If you wanna freak with me. Baby there's a price to pay/>
I'm tellin you how it is and what I has to live and what I got to give

To the ears of the ones who wanna listen

Some don't understand,, so they really don't know what they're missin

Hard times made hard heads in the South

You get respect bein real, no sell-out



[ VERSE 3: 8Ball ]

In '93 I was rappin about my curls and my Cadillac

The pimp blast, takin you fast, smokin grass and all that

Players got the message, busters didn't attempt to listen

Thinkin that we was talkin about that on-the-corner fake pimpin

Hell yeah, I'm that player from the underground

All-black assassin from the neighborhood of Orange Mound

They don't understand, why, they being society

The white people who run this nation got somethin against me

Me bein a young black male with an education

Teachin this pimpin, so

Your Sweet Love Lifted Me Lyrics
I've thought the world for me had ended when she left So my pride let me start feeling sorry for myself I built a wall around my heart for security Then your sweet love opened up a brand new life for me Clouds of doubt were gone at last I saw the sunshine Instead of crying now I feel like singing all the time Now at last I know how sweet the joys of love can be And it all happened when your sweet love lif

the blacks will one day rule this nation

But every day another brother tries to kill me

Jack me because of the poverty in communities

Where you either have to sell crack or jack, man

What I'm tryin to stress to you is, don't step to the fat man

Because today I'm rappin, rockin shows and pullin hoes

But tomorrow I might be on the cut slingin dope

See, in the studio I'm killin fools vocally

But if it came down to it, I could do it silently

Fuck the President, the media can quote me

Listen to them lyrics, fool, I ain't sellin out, gee



[ VERSE 4: MJG ]

You gotta be hard in this business, ain't no suckers, ain't no sell-outs

It's the way that you go in it, that's the way you gonna go out

First of all: never break up with them hustlers that you started with

Long as this happens you and your click won

Guitar And Pen Lyrics
You're alone above the street somewhere Wondering how you'll ever count out there You can walk, you can talk, you can fight But inside you've got something to write In your hand you hold your only pen Never spend your guitar or your pen Your guitar or your pen Your guitar or your pen Your guitar or your pen Your guitar or your pen When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up When you're kicking the fence and still nothing will

't accomplish sh...

Should've thought about it real hard

Now how could any group that's meant to be together be apart?

And if you start with a strong mind, think with a strong mind

B-u-s-i-n-e-ss time

I'm in the lab, chiefin hay, comin up with gold

Pimp mobile, hit the reel, let the platinum roll

See, I was taught, not the easy, but the hard way

Hustle after hustle after hustle each and every day

I gotta stay down to earth, cause I'm from Orange Mound

See, that's my hood, understood in the M-Town

Memphis-bound players, pimp type, black, strong, young

Level-headed Tennesseee, hustlers got it goin on

Bad to the bone when I roam through the area

Carry a, automatic weapon for my burial

When it's all over what it is and what it's all about?

Stay true to your homies and your music, no sell-out