What's Golden

Check it out now I work the pen to make the ink transform On any particular surface the pen lands on Zaakir is hands-on, what's the beef? The Cooley High Cochise high post techniques I drape off poetic landscapes and shapes Illustrate the paper space off the pens that paint Then design what have a National Geographic a magic With tailor-made status and plus flavor that's automatic, huh We're not balling We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's golden ("On a stage I rage, and I'm rollin'") We're not balling, or shot calling We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's golden ("On a stage I rage, and I'm rollin'") Melancholy mundane so I tame the hot flame Big rings, fat chains, and y'all quest for the same No name, use fame, strictly new to the thang We stay true to the game and never bring it to shame We tight like dreadlocks or red fox and ripple We pass participles, and smash the artist in you The saga continues, this I won't get into 'Cause there ain't enough bars to hold the drama that we been through Yo We still the same with a little fame A little change in the household name but ain't too much changed We in the game yo, but not to be vain I refrain from salt grains to season up my name We entertain for a mutual game from close range Steady aim, I drum at your head to hit the brain I'm labor ready, Rhode Scholar for the dollar Work for mines, pay me by the hour We're not balling We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's golden ("On a stage I rage, and I'm rollin'") We're not balling, or shot calling We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's golden ("On a stage I rage, and I'm rollin'") (Music, hip-hop music) (Music, hip-hop music) (Music, hip-hop music) (Music, hip-hop music) (Music, hip-hop music) (Music, hip-hop music) (Music, hip-hop music) (Music, hip-hop music) Yo Well, it's the verbal Herman Munster, the word enhancer Sick of phony mobsters controllin' the dance floor I'm in them dark places, catch you when you stark naked Your heart races as we pump you for your chart spaces The tart tastes be bringing these hot styles through Some of you bum a few cheers from shock value Word power can plow through acres of cornfields Paragraphs cut like warm steel, perform ill We're not balling We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's golden ("On a stage I rage, and I'm rollin'") We're not balling, or shot calling We take it back to the days of yes y'all-in' We holding onto what's golden ("On a stage I rage, and I'm rollin'")