| Verse One:
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| When I was five years old I realized there was a road
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| At the end I will win lots of pots of gold
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| Never took a break, never made a mistake
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| Took time to create cos there’s money to make
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| To be a billionaire takes hard work for years
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| Some nights I shedded tears while I sent up prayers
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| Been through hard times, even worked part time
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| In a? |
| Seafood? |
| Store sweepin floors for dimes
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| I was sort of a porter takin the next man’s order
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| Breakin my back for? |
| A shack for headquarters?
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| All my manpower for four bucks an hour
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| Took the time, I wrote rhymes in the shower
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| Shoes are scoffed cos the road gets rough
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| But I’ma rock it til my pockets ain’t stuffed enough
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| All the freaks wouldn’t speak cos my checks was weak
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| They would turn the other cheek so I started to seek
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| A way to get a play, and maybe one day
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| I’ll be performin up a storm for a decent pay
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| No matter how it seems I always kept the dream
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| All the girlies scream and suckas get creamed
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| Dreamed about it for five years straight
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| Finally I got a break and cut my first plate
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| The road ain’t yellow and there ain’t no witches
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| My name is Kool G Rap, I’m on the road to the riches
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| Verse Two:
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| I used to stand on the block sellin cooked up rock
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| Money bustin out my sock cos I really would clock
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| They were for kind of fiends bringin jackets and jeans
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| Magazines, anything, just to hustle for beans
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| The cash was comin fast, money grew like grass
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| People hungry for the blast that don’t even last
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| Didn’t want to be involved but the money will getcha
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| Gettin richer and richer, the police took my picture
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| But I still supplied, some people I knew died
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| Murders and homicides for bottles of suicide
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| Money, jewelry, livin like a star
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| And I wasn’t too far from a Jaguar car
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| In a small-time casino, the town’s Al Pacino
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| For all of the girls, the pretty boy Valentino
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| I shot up stores and I kicked down doors
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| Collecting scars from little neighborhood wars
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| Many legs I broke, many necks I choked
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| And if provoked I let the pistol smoke
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| Loyal members in a crew now down with the game
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| Sellin nickels and dimes, sunshine or rain
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| What I had was bad from my shoes to my pad
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| In the first time in my life loanin money to dad
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| Now the table’s turned and my lifestyle switches
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| My name is Kool G Rap, I’m on the road to the riches
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| Verse Three:
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| ? |
| A thug a-mugs? |
| For drugs, he eventually bugs
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| Lookin for crack on carpets and rugs
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| ? |
| The squealers tells? |
| But the dealer still sells
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| Little spoiled kids inheritin oil wells
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| I was the type on the opposite side
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| Of smokin the pipe, in a beef I got hype
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| Cos rags to riches switches men to witches
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| Become stitches, body bags in ditches
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| Bloodshed, I painted the town red
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| People fled as I put a dread’s head to bed
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| That mean’s dead, in other words deceased
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| Face got erased, bullets got released
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| Bombs were planted, the kids were kidnapped
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| In fact that was a way to get back
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| At enemies who tried to clock G’s
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| On my block, now they forever knock Z’s
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| Plans of rampages went for ages
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| Some got knocked and locked inside cages
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| Some bit the dust for crumbs and crusts
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| In God We Trust, now rots to rust
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| Plus caps to cops, policeman drops
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| You blew off his top when the pistol went pop
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| Troopers, soldiers, rollin like boulders
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| Eyes of hate and their hearts get colder
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| Some young male put in jail
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| His lawyer so good his bail is on sale
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| Lookin at the hourglass, how long can this power last?
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| Longer than my song but he already fell
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| He likes to eat hardy, party
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| Be like John Gotti, and drive a Maserati
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| Rough in the ghetto, but in jail he’s Jello
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| Mellow, yellow fellow, tell or hell, hello
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| One court date can turn an outlaw to an inmate
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| But just? |
| Stay?, ship him upstate by the Great Lakes
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| And than a-wait and wait and wait
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| Til he breaks, that’s all it takes
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| So he fakes to be a man, but he can’t stand
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| On his own two feet because now he’s in a new land
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| Rules are different and so is life
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| When you think with a shank, talk with a knife
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| Not my lifestyle so I made a you-turn
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| More money I earn, more money to burn
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| Pushin all buttons, pullin all switches
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| My name is G. Rap, I’m on the road to the riches |