Black Mozart (feat. Inspectah Deck)

Yeah, you know how it go

Fresh from the Stationary Hall of Justice

Real rhyming

Real movement, real life

Word up, we just chilling

Ten bottles of Krug on the wall

You know what I'm saying?

Straight up, for real

Yo, RZA, talk to these ****, man

Let's go, man, for real

Yo, Rah, what up? Let's go

You better get that money, no matter what you do

(Yeah, gangsta shit, groovy shit, raw shit)

(Secret indictment shit)

You gotta get that money and represent your crew

(Yeah, secret indictments)

(Be careful, ****, for real, let's go)

And keep it (True)

As reaper stays sprayed, still **** is smoked

Four in his pocket, a diamond-ed up chain and some coke

Champion hood, the goodies in a brown bag by the radiator

Near the cookies and the bundles of dope

Fishscalers, I live in elevators and gross

All this paper, profit make her lay there and post

With them Adidas that Bruce wore, stay in the juice bar

All I know, if you saw me, you thought I was broke, Black, yo

I been hustling since **** was busting guns

And scuffling, and jumping **** over some coats

We play the S&S rooftop, Latin Quarter, Polo popes

Who hung out with all the Eighthers and GOATs

You better get that money, no matter what you do

You gotta get that money and represent your crew

(Yo, RZA, you crazy, man)

(Ooh, this that Black Mozart shit right here)

And keep it (True)

Yo, I used to scramble hard, radio strapped to the handlebars

Fifty deep in the lobby, large, rocking camouflage

Dark Caesar holding my nuts, played the building front

Fifth of Henny, throw a little snow in the blunt

Just growing up, schooled by OGss, holding Os and up

Daily, new drama unfold, "They popped him over what?"

It's so rough, nobody know him, so what?

"Ayo, the money's close by, homie, show me the stuff"

Borough-hopping, copping bricks, bags, burners, and kicks

City slickers, circling the strip, working them tricks

Like Friday night, cruise in the coupe, new velour suit

Fruit-flavored kicks, taking flicks out in 40-Deuce

Farmer jeans, hammer swing, tucked in the loop

How they hit Ms. Fisher, they was busting that suit

Up in 54, underground, parrot and Q

Made man with the gray shams, wrapping the boo

Stay flam, every day, fam, stacking my loot

Eighty grams in the cake, bam, packages flew

Sipping passionfruit, Alizé, in back of The Ooh

We soldiers, boy, we soldiers

Bake cakes, hundred dollar bill holders

We soldiers, boy, we soldiers

Bighead, I thought I told you

We soldiers, boy, we soldiers

Bake cakes, hundred dollar bill holders

Bighead, I thought I told you

We soldiers, boy, we soldiers

You better get that money, no matter what you do

You gotta get that money and represent your crew

And keep it true