| Long time coming huh Jorge?
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| I gotchu. |
| Hip-Hop to the death
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| Let me tell my story
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| I’m the blood from the stone
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| And that stone is Far Rock
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| Home is off Virginia near Cornega and Mott
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| We brought kicks from sneaker steez
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| White tees with creased sleeves
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| To make dough we shoveled snow
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| In the fall we’d break leaves
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| Then my pen took its path
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| And I began writing my raps
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| I was kicking it with females
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| In biker shorts and gold caps
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| And Ebony and Mahogany
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| Bring em home to meet my family
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| And when the heads around the way saw me
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| They started dogging me
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| Talking all reckless trynna knock my success
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| Better to climb them stairs instead of project steps
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| See my people in Far Rockaway never seen me more than a block away
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| And when your crew need you
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| How you gonna say no not today?
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| So I got caught between a Rock and hard place
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| But never last place
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| And then we came up with the «Gas Face»
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| KMD Zev Love X Subroc R.I.P
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| We’d get dissed by chicks and this is the face they gave me
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| We’d drive back to Long Beach with my tank on empty
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| And my my bank on empty
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| I had a quarter for a loosey
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| The Newport I inhaled and exhaled through my nose
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| Dusting the cigarette ash from my clothes then I rose
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| Planning to never be in the same place ever again
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| Being broke was my people but it was never my friend
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| But my love will never die
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| I am what I supply
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| See I am Hip-Hop music and I use it to get by
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| And this culture accepted me for the skin that was on me
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| And then came «Step into the A.M.» |
| and the «Cactus» CD
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| And it put me on the course that you see me on today
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| And truth be told I would have it no other way
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| That’s why I say it’s not a game
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| Hey yo' Serch
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| I appreciate you coming through
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| Good looking out yo', y’all used to let me get on stage with you
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| Pop goes the weasel
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| So hot that I’m diesel
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| Nowadays I couldn’t paint this picture better on a easel
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| But back then I didn’t know what was truly the prize
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| Soon after I’m on tour with Fugees and Nas
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| Such a great honor I wasn’t ready
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| I was late pana
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| My whole shit pause like a straight comma
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| I had to search within
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| Take the wrong make it right
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| Mend my broken wings
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| So once again I take flight
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| Now I’m free as the wind
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| Don’t know where to begin
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| I gather my thought’s every time I breath in
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| Believe in self
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| Give thanks to where it’s supposed to go
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| Lord knows my beloved
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| I’m supposed to flow
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| Don’t get a twist between that rap and that street shit
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| Stay on the humble
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| But never on no weak shit
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| Those thinkin' otherwise can buckle down and eat dick
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| Get your money, buy a ticket, come see me spit
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| Kurious Jorge
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| See the name in lights
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| Incredible how 20/20 be the hindsight
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| Get your rhymes right
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| Get your minds right
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| This that big purse heavyweight prize fight
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| Get your life right (Money)
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| Get your life right
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| This that big purse heavyweight prize fight
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| Persistence always overcomes resistance
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| Is the words of Mr. Magic
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| Not to be confused with the magican, hat tricks
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| Out the bag, look at what the cat done drug in cousin
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| If you don’t know, you buggin
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| There’s about to be muggin
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| My brova Jorge is here
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| Swords is clear as I pour beer for years
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| More to share, Cheers
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| It’s good to see you back boss
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| Game ain’t changed since the Crack to Iraq wars
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| Villian, droolin still share his last snack bar
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| Feeding these chirrens with the knack off
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| The black tarts
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| Swervin' double lines bubble lines been through
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| Nerve to beat the odds when they against you with a pencil
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| It’s all in the mental OOOOH saw what he said?
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| Metal Face DOOM open doors with his forehead
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| The burnout plan and the fans be tireless
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| Turns out there’s no bluff
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| Pump you punks but kiss the DOOM Dunks like Sho’Nuff
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| The bottom, pond scum, swallow some
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| To the T-O-P
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| Left for Harlem, what the problem is? |
| Fondel’em |