Sum Shit I Wrote Lyrics - Resurrection - Common

Marks I erase like racism I'm as large as a bigot 

Groove is my escapism when I'm bubbly I just kick it 

What I need from you is understanding that I'm standing 

On my own two down with my own crew 

Toe cancer I'm bad to the bone too I'm prone to snap off 

When I'm off that Cognac I can't hold back like a massouse 

I get loose like a screw turned from left right to tight 

When it's time for some action I get Red's "Tonight's Da Night" 

An eye for an eye, a life for his wife 

Dissected I'm on some hi-tech shit computers want to bite 

Your style is Pascal, mine is Basic and just instinct 

I'm with the fam and ran scams, me and Murray got up on big links 

And if knowledge is the key, goddammit I'm the locksmith 

Started a missionary way on my life, the mic I rust like bostage 

I switch styles like a channel with controls that are remote 

Engage in a page, and with words I elope 

Walking down the aisles with styles I freak the viles 

Anti-Nazi when I rocks like a Z-28 

At any rate, brothers gain interest because I loaned them microphones 

They couldn't house the shit so they had to rent to own 

It's like that, coming from the go rapper 

I wanna bone Jada Pinkett and that hoe Patra 

So keep on, and you don't, now come on 

Ah keep on, and you don't 

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Sometime when I'm alone in my room I stare at the wall 

And in the back of my mind I hear a wack-ass rhyme 

And I catch Alz-rhymers, then forget it, I get charged 

Like a nigga in position with the stolen card the credit 

F**k flipping the script, the rap scene I'm trying to edit 

My mellows call me "Never", they be like "Never's going to get it" 

Never's too much, I'm much too, I do justice to poetics 

That's why cats be like "F**k you, f**k you, f**k you!" 

Other studs come through to see what I am up to 

They be on the dick of crew that be giving us sweet and buying us fruit 

Like Kareem I got the hook up, brothers look out because they look 

Rest in peace to? Heavena?, washing tons of rappers like Booker 

Tee told me "You gotta get out of the crib, get into the world" 

How you going to come off with the style that's thourough? 

It's like that, keep on, ha ha 

It's like that, keep on 

Photos 

My foundation is in black block of niggas that rock they hat cock 

I'm real like a fight with my rap, rappers I slapbox 

Back I got my rap, now get your glock out the black face 

Got tall flavor with fat taste, the rat race is a rat race 

Just cause you got Adidas with the fat laces and the fro don't make you hip-hop 

You sorry excuse for funk rap 

Why is there so many cranks trying to rhyme, yo funk that 

The real shit's starting to come back 

The Go is where I'm from and where I'm at, jack 

I started eating cat when I was 10 

Before dinner I was getting big dog like Glen Robinson 

I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind 

But comes a time when you gotta get off of that booty 

The facts of life I didn't learn from watching Tootie 

But living in the big city but I still like Tootie cause she got big titties 

My style is steep, I write rhymes on the incline 

Splat guts plus fat nuts and lay up like a crib line 

I'm slamming, jamming on the one 

I'm a bad man, you're just a good son, come on