Studio Gangster

poem

　

you think your a one of a kind but your naked and blind

you exposed your groin to the nation's populace

death row in comes the dope show

you be shooting up the tracks hold in your own in the act

blasting the Ajax boogy down to your socks

kicking it with your hommies but you know they don't respect you

Suckas like you all want to rap but you got to give them a mop

you think it takes a man to make a baby well maybe

　

got a flash from your past going to make it blast

stand up on your feet and beat the beats

I'm true in what I do where as others haven't a single clue

we have to ckeck it in gear don't you fear

rap is where its at all the homeboys are giving me a heart attack

your a studio gangster the image of a prodigy being set free

flash from my past and my fame is getting bigger

getting the news you sing the blues while watching Hill Street Blues

　

shooting hoops in the back of the yard

playing spades getting to far

open a bottle the sip on my forty

cause in effect have you forgotten that we met

loose lips sinks ships take some time to move those hips

shattered dreams flirting through the means onto the extreme

holding my own at the back yard pool as mister cool