Guru: Power, money and influence

(feat. Jean Grae , Talib Kweli) [Chorus: x2] Power, money and influence I had a taste of it, now I'm all into it The game ain't over 'till I get my share 'till I have my run, this here is my year [Jean Grae] Man, I'm a tycon, whether in person or slick right on Crisp Nikes on, six niggaz with sick pythons Right around your area, face close like a scared straight playin your host, you get bitched out This ain't fluffin a rang, this clip ain't bang You sittin lame duck, shittin on the names stuck I vow this year, power's mine If I gotta sketch up my name, empowering rhymes If I gotta attend jail just to boost up the sales I know a laber owner that I'd love to bruise up for bail I know my family got it, they pull together but it's amniotic I mean baby like askin for a name spot it The talent, the influental and erotic Put on the back burner but potential as a parent Every track is a murder but could treat it like lobonic The play that graze here, now MC's in a daze mind [Chorus] [Guru] In one second flat I tear your whole frame Plus we pack like a stadium does, at a pro game Got so many ways to end yo glory Rub you out, shut you down, then it's end of story I'm like Robert Horry with a clutch three You can't touch me, the black double oh-seven, nigga trust me Modern day Ali when it comes to the rhyme Know how to hold the fort down when they comin for mine I'm crafty, I move swift and changeable Plus I'm aware, of what jealousy and anger do You can't help yourself then you can't help me Can't smell what the truth is then you can't smell me You can tell a million stories about how gully you are Then as soon as you finish, I'm be pullin your card I step so courageously, I rap so amazingly I guess you could say, that niggaz slept on me basically [Chorus x2] [Talib Kweli] Jean Grae, Kweli, Guru, for the first time Let the games begin like Jaceson Taylor wrote his first rhyme Technology make niggaz lazy, with the pro tools Even you could write your verse in the booth like you were Jay-Z A Hollywood between reality tv and rap Is there ain't no more use for the classically trained actor First light bulb ever made is still burnin They sell the ones that burn out to take the money you earnin Word that marijuana grow too natural to be a cash crop we have cops at bars, smokin squares, throwin back shots They walk the street and bring the heat to the apshalts Servin, protectin the half, beatin on the half not Niggaz talk greasy in the magazines 'Till they track down and you hear the sounds of loaded magazines Havin dreams 'till they ribs got a gat in between Passion for cream, make a nigga wanna splatter your spleen That shit is mean [Chorus x2]