Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Journey, artist - Kool Keith. Date of issue: 16.02.2015
Song language: English
Journey |
| When it comes to this rap shit, not a stranger |
| Not Cedric, but I’m a Entertainer |
| Game changer, none can match it |
| I’m a Master, I throw on the green jacket |
| It takes practice, just to blaze mics |
| I’m in the best shape of my life |
| In fights with God vs. Devil |
| I’mma beat them charges, I’m the hardest rebel |
| I’m beyond your level, I’m stone and grit |
| Sit back, let me Quincy Jones this shit |
| Loan two bits, this is my territory |
| My biography’s an amazing story |
| Of blood and streets, love and deceit |
| Slugs and heat, let the dog off the leash |
| I’m a free MC, not DMC, no contracts, contact TMZ |
| Here I come (I'm the talk of the town, talk, talk of the town) |
| I’m on my way (I'm the talk of the town, talk, talk of the town) |
| Here I come (I'm the talk of the town, talk, talk of the town) |
| I’m on my way (I'm the talk of the town, talk, talk of the town) |
| Tour bus, Orca, big shark walker |
| Man with the ammo, ya’ll bring the grand piano |
| Fitted hat on, superfly, walk around |
| Shoot around your town like Hawaii Five-Oh |
| Oprah come out your projects, I’m down with The Sopranos |
| While I’m stealin' em, head so big like balloon helium |
| Guns with body suits, energize off poets |
| See the king of kings, I manage Floyd Mayweather now |
| Come up to the condeminium, and shake hands with the new millennium |
| Larry and Armstrong insurance, me and U-God |
| Any rapper come up, better speak to the doorman |
| Throwing rice on the city, out the Carolina box |
| Captain hat, finger popping your lady with the Air Nike shots |
| Heavyweight, dumped around my waist, I took it years ago from John Tate |
| Rap hall of fame, ya’ll mention me |
| Got more bars then a penetentiary |
| In the next century, you gonna see my spark |
| My rap IQ is right off the charts |
| Go and front, go ahead plot |
| You got the biggest gun don’t mean you can’t get shot |
| Check my slot, check my melody |
| You can’t beat me, I’m the champ of this melody |
| Speaking felonies, that’s why I’m ribbing |
| Golden Arms venom, baggy jeans denim |
| Enemies, yo, I dodge for a living |
| And all these women, gotta stay ahead of ya |
| Ya’ll want ballers, the hell with the regular |
| Yeah, yeah, whatever, kid, gotta keep your head sharp |
| Mind on the run, ya’ll got a head start |
| Ya’ll know the repertoire, fingers on the triggers |
| We the toughest niggas in the yard |