Lyrics Journey - Kool Keith, U-God

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