What's Golden

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I work the pen to make the ink transform

On any particular surface the pen lands on

Zaakir is hands on, what's the beef?

The Cooley High Cochise, high post techniques

I drape off poetic landscapes and shapes

Illustrate the paper space off the pens and paint

Then design what have a National Geographic a magic

With tailor-made status and plus flavor, that's automatic, uh

We're not ballin'

We take it back to the days of 'yes, y'all-in'

We holdin' onto what's golden

(on a stage I rage and I'm rollin')

We're not ballin', or shot callin'

We take it back to the days of 'yes, y'all-in'

We holdin' onto what's golden

(on a stage I rage and I'm rollin')

Yo

Melancholy mundane so I tame the hot flame

Big rings, fat chains and y'all quest for the same

No name, use fame, strictly new to the thing

We stay true the the game and never bring it to shame

We tight like dreadlocks or red fox and ripple

We pass participles and smash the artist in you

The saga continues, this I won't get into

'Cause there win't enough bars to hold the drama that we been through

Yo, we still the same with a little fame

A little change in the household name but ain't too much changed

We in the game yo, but not to be vain

I refrain from salt grains to season up my name

We entertain for a mutual gain from close range

Steady aim, my drum at your head to hit the brain

I'm labor ready, Rhode Scholar for the dollar

Work for mines, pay me by the hour

We're not ballin'

We take it back to the days of 'yes, y'all-in'

We holdin' onto what's golden

(on a stage I rage and I'm rollin')

We're not ballin' or shot callin'

We take it back to the days of 'yes, y'all-in'

We holdin' onto what's golden

(on a stage I rage and I'm rollin')

Hip-Hop music..

Yo, well, this the verbal Herman Munster, the word enhancer

Sick of phony mobsters controllin' the dance floor

I'm in the dark places, catch you when you stark naked

Your heart races as we pump you for your chart spaces

The tart tastes be bringin' these hot styles through

Some of you bum a few cheers from shock value

Word power can plow through acres of cornfields

Paragraphs cut like warm steel, perform ill

We're not ballin'

We take it back to the days of 'yes, y'all-in'

We holdin' onto what's golden

(on a stage I rage and I'm rollin')

We're not ballin', or shot callin'

We take it back to the days of 'yes, y'all-in'

We holdin' onto what's golden

(on a stage I rage and I'm rollin')