*Violins and pianos are heard tapping and a conductor clearing his Throat to signal that he is ready* Chorus: Soul oul oul oul oul oul oul (My soul my soul) My soul oul oul My soul oul oul (My soul) Soul oul oul oul oul oul oul (My soul) My soul oul oul (My soul) My soul oul oul Verse 1: You can try to throw salt but I keep my game face on And the only thing on your mind is stalkin' more digits than a Telephone Me and thirty-nine theives jumpin' out of white Hummer From Compton (Wooh-wooh-wooh), while your crew get dumb and dumber Grew up straight out of low cash like CB fo' Now I got dough and you got one night stands like gangsta, yo See on the low it's all gravy But the threat of this new world order is about to drive me crazy And all you want is the Lex and gold Visa Bomb singles and stackin' your chips like Pringles While my rhymes jack for platinum plaques Quicker than one time Jack Black's I twist sacks and sip yac Plus, the Invisible Man got my back like a spine So, why you all up in mine? Keep the money and the fame cause all I really wanna hold Is my artistic flavor and control of my soul Chorus Verse 2: Ain't no tellin Most women are still waitin' and sellin' Most of my homies is ex-felons (Convicts) In two decades, rap went from Planet Rock To crack rock Now, everybody got a glock And it don't stop Till another brother drop That's why I poured out a little drink for the homie Pac (Rest In Peace) What's a thin line between love and hate? A million dollars in the bank and you still can't escape It's a small world, after all, you're clausterphobic, you can't Breathe So, store your ball like Christopher Reeve It's the hater in you that makes you criticize me Cause if you handled your business then yo ass would see Nineteen-ninety-seven is still crackin' I'ma get the ladies out their seat like this was a car jackin' They say the game is to be sold, not told You can keep your bankroll, I want control of my soul Chorus Verse 3: My jaws flip across sixteen bars like Dominique Dawes But without no flaws, never broke a m.c. law See, I was servin' wack rappers at the school When Bruce Lee was scrappin' with Kareem Abdul You got into triple beams and guns you ain't gon shoot I seen a million rappers in the same Versace suit Or, the same pair of locs, that's probably why you're broke And your backstage and your ghetto pass got revoked Scrappin' or rappin' what you want to happen? If I ever come up short you the first one I'm jackin' It's theives in the area like aircraft carrier's We're launchin' F-15's And Anti-Wack Maf Machines Michropone, sittin' on my vocal chord Sendin' busta's to the crossroads like Thuggish Ruggish Bone It's the C-O-O-L-I-O, well I, wont fold When I'm controllin' my soul Chorus: Repeat 1 1/2 times
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