crazy, wha-whoa [Rakaa:] It's Dilated with the Prophet, Capleton the Fireman Visions of the future's clear, reign of fire in his hand Crown Prince Rakaa
the chisel, crash the walls of the Jeep Delight in personnel as they romp in the street Intent is to bend, non-understandin in those that peep Automatic
[Verse One: Pharoahe Monche] Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism Which gives a response, for the automatic [bang] Clip to release
unlock the door: Imagine a poet without poetical form Rhymes are for sure as an attack cause they adapt to combat for the prisoners of war [Prince Poetry
Don't forget to do that thing for your mother Roosevelt! Yeah yeah yeah, alright, alright [Prince Poetry] Running upon the jagged edge, FUCK, THE ROUGH
[Prince Poetry] Capital P-to-the-R-to-the, I-to-the-N-to-the-C-to the-E-to-the-P-to-the-O-to-the-E.. TRY harder, don't bother Prince Poetry, the man,
Hate! Nigga U Love 2 Hate. Stop it. (Ah, ah) Nigga U Love 2 Hate. Nigga, I ain't fake! [Verse 1] Before this rap shit I used to slang crack wit ghetto bastards pack automatic
half these niggaz is punks They runnin off at the mouth 'til I fill it up with my pump They jump, my automatic keep 'em wary Why you frontin like
of us, Real niggas we blow the world up, And bump the planet, Take it for granted when i manage with that hometeam advantage automatic rhyme bandit
do? I make your family be missing you [Verse 1: Slop & Patacico] Dustin' you off like dirty finger prints on evidence Battlin' me ya dead like presidents I'm Fresh like Prince
dimes and quarters That pop of the rock you a boughta But ? we oughta, nigga we turnin' ya projects into the Carter Got automatic starters, for they automatics choppers And the Texas boy a automatic
is dead when my brain reacts yYu might as well have fell asleep on a train track This ain't the same track that you're used to This is rhythmatic automatic
Flip the beat back, now it's all reppin' Hit the record sto', never let me go, get my whole collection, yo [Chorus] [Verse 3] It's, the, return of the Prince
(feat. John Legend, Lil' Wayne & Nas) [Rich Boy:] Let me take ya through my hood where I was born and raised Where niggas tote semi-automatics, busting
and quarters; that powder the rock you a-boughta Mo' dope than we oughta, nigga we turnin your projects into The Carter Got automatic starters, for they automatics choppers And the Texas boy'll automatically
My life is so historical You're talking to the oracle Am I the prince? The question is rhetorical People scream my name when I am riding down memorial
Even my broad, cause she might be fucking some other brother Lord knows, that I couldn't take it if I found out Premeditated, cause I'm about to let them automatic