Lyrics Bg - Shyne

Bg

Young boy don’t blow my cool
Keep your feet up out my shoe
I know my story’s compellin' and, yes, I’m a legend
But this ain’t no marketin' plan
You don’t want Sharpton and Hampton testin' what you reppin'
Causin' a jam so they don’t play you on the FM
Started a plan so they could censor all your sentence
What happened to my freedom of speech?
Sell 'cain from Robert Blake to catch a bad but
You ashamed from OJ and Johnny
Who more misogynistic from Pam Anderson to Tommy
Penthouse, Playboy, and nothin' published by me
Hm, I guess it’s different rules
Some for Michael Jackson and some for The Who
Yeah dude, I mean Pete Townsend
Downloadin' kiddie porn you don’t hear nuttin' 'bout him
King of Pop, not guilty what they found him
But still this air of suspicion surrounds him
Still he’s whacko, still he’s Jack-O, cause he wore afro
He was black though
Ronald Regan was the one that bought the 'caine in
Politicians tryin' to censor what I’m sayin'
Young bloods wanna follow what I’m claimin'
Don’t follow me, I wish that I could save them
I wish that I could show em it’s a better way
Then growin' up in a cage
Like a dog, help 'em God oh help 'em God, oh help 'em God
He ain’t get arraigned yet Kobe ain’t no rapist
The district attorney in Colorado was in APHIS
It pains me to say this, I’m callin' it what a spade is
We’ve come so far but some things never changes
Sid Vicious from the Sex Pistols got charged with the murder of one of his women
And then we got this new group «The Killers»
Tell me what the difference between them and Murder Inc. is
I think you should know
Elvis married his wife when she was 14 years old
Elliot Spitzer’s on every talk show still they won’t give a second chance to Po
FBI don’t like my rhymes
The way I talk about our lives
They say I’m a threat so they send me to trial
And blame the murder rate on Shyne
I’m just the mirror of the ugly world
You might see yourself up in these words
A killer dies they turn him to ashes
Right wing republicans is fascist
Ronald Regan was the one that bought the 'caine in
Politicians tryin' to censor what I’m sayin'
Young bloods wanna follow what I’m claimin'
Don’t follow me, I wish that I could save them
Officer, correction officer
Please take these handcuffs off of us
We ain’t kill nobody there ain’t no jobs for us
Tell me what the ___ do you want from us
I musta been away too long I ain’t jackin' these new kids
When cops stop stopped makin' gangsta music?
The cops I know help old ladies and school kids
Crooked cops get the bodies found in the sewage
This exactly what I live for
This is for the ghetto this is not for Billboard
This for the dope boys stuck in the task force
Screw the media and their rap wars
News coverage say we all thuggish but we all talk about how we all punished
The subhuman things which we all subject
You wouldn’t know if you listen to these so called pundits
Before I go did I mention Phil Spectre?
He bodied his dog but his song’s not censored
Still they wanna give C. Murder the death sentence
And even blame hip-hop for the death of John Lennon
Young boy you’re blowin' my cool
Keep your feet up out my shoe