with the urge to walk water Foul searching, bi weekly, all purpose Talk verses in dashikis and fly turbans Enter the scheme of things, all love All thugs get judged by me, the king of the kings
're pretending to be We took the turn inpenetrable, and fine tuned it Cleared the path, laughed and walked past the wounded You shouldn't have assumed
six-hundred and sixty-six lashes To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has beens Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of
We went to the beach to take a little walk I found out I was smoother than I thought My hands like maverick started to wander Left and right then wound
of his past an' All is did was build a dynasty off of his passion And I'm addressing the adolesence absent to who he is The original king of New York
we know about poverty" Do you? Dear hip-hop, I apologize for how you've been treated I should've fought for my culture, instead I retreated The game is wounded
a cat serious about rap and it ain't luck If twenty years after his first single, his name's stuck From seventy-four to ninety-nine, did novice's king
long acho My shit is jammed For you planned Body's wounded badly Move quickly before they bag me Being chased down this dark alley I'm a wounded ass
long acho My shit is jammed For you planned Body's wounded badly Move quickly before they bag me Being chased down this dark alley I'm a wounded
it up Cutmaster King with hardcore cuts Makin' it rough, rock, rocking tha spot Cool evidently as he cuts it up Break, breakin' the funk as he cuts it up Wounded
readin our autobiographies in a minute, ya heard? [The Game (Raekwon) - Verse 4] (Yo what if I was from Compton?) What if I was from Staten? I'd be King
more we get, the more we takin' From other people, baby Brooklyn Here's a toast to all the dons, dope fiends and hoes Long cons, diamond rings and the kings
Spoiled, ah, shit, my blood boiled But, fuck that, I'm ready for open hand combat It's the Tomcat And my thoughts are unlimited Inflicted fatal wounds
't mean a thing Although it appears to be that the loser is king I can understand that what you see you think is real But underneath the surface is a wound
You can cry if you want to, you can rage at the night You can blame all your wounds on the workd if you like YOu can drink from the bottle no ice and
you are Come just like you be It's the bumps and curves of our history But no blocks in the road that we can't traverse And no wounds from the past
me The heart in which you've planted Is precious for you to see The cross in which you've hung Is not a place for a king to be Lord the wounds that stung