My Soul

SoulMy soul

My soulSoul

My soulMy soul

You can try to throw salt, but

I keep my game face on

And the only thing on your mind is stalkin' more digits than a telephone

Me and thirty-nine thieves jumpin' out of white

HummerFrom

Compton, while your crew get

Dumb and Dumber

Grew up straight out of low cash like

CB fo'Now

I got dough and you got one night stands like gangsta, yo

See on the low it's all gravy

But the threat of this new world order is about to drive me crazy

And all you want is the

Lex and gold

VisaBomb singles and stackin' your chips like

PringlesWhile my rhymes jack for platinum plaques

Quicker than one time

Jack Black's

I twist sacks and sip yac

Plus, the

Invisible

Man got my back like a spine

So, why you all up in mine?

Keep the money and the fame 'cause all

I really wanna hold

Is my artistic flavor and control of my soul

SoulMy soul

My soulSoul

My soulMy soul

Ain't no tellin', most women are still waitin' and sellin'

Most of my homies is ex-felons

In two decades, rap went from

Planet Rock to crack rock

Now, everybody got a glock and it don't stop till another brother drop

That's why

I poured out a little drink for the homie

PacWhat's a thin line between love and hate?

A million dollars in the bank and you still can't escape

It's a small world, after all, you're claustrophobic, you can't breathe

So store your ball like

Christopher

ReeveIt's the hater in you that makes you criticize me'

Cause if you handled your business then yo ass would see

Nineteen-ninety-seven is still crackin'

And I'ma get the ladies out their seat

Like this was a car jackin'

They say the game is to be sold, not told

You can keep your bankroll,

I want control of my soul

SoulMy soul

My soulSoul

My soulMy soul

My jaws flip across sixteen bars like

Dominique

DawesBut without no flaws, never broke a

M.C. LawSee,

I was servin' wack rappers at the school

When Bruce

Lee was scrappin' with

Kareem Abdul

You got into triple beams and guns, you ain't gon' shoot

I seen a million rappers in the same

Versace suit

Or the same pair of locs, that's probably why you're broke

And your backstage and your ghetto pass got revoked

Scrappin' or rappin' what you want to happen?

If I ever come up short you the first one

I'm jackin'

It's thieves in the area like aircraft carrier's

We're launchin'

F-15's and

Anti-Wack

Maf Machines

Michropone, sittin' on my vocal chord

Sendin' busta's to the crossroads like

Thuggish Ruggish

BoneIt's the

C O O L I

O, well I, won't fold

When I'm controllin' my soul

SoulMy soul

My soulSoul

My soulMy soul

SoulMy soul

My soul