I ain't hardcore, I don't pack a 9 millimeter
Most of y'all gangster rappers ain't hardcore neither
Whoever get mad then I'm talkin 'bout you
Claim you fear no man but never walk without crew
Where I'm from, your reputation don't mean jack
So what you pack gats and you sell fiend's crack
You ain't big time, my man
You ain't no different from the next cat in my neigberhood who did time
Rhyme after rhyme it's the same topic
What make you think you hardcore cuz you was raised in the projects
Broke ass finally got a hundred in your pocket
Now you on the mic spittin' money's no object
What you say is bullcrap
If you wasn't with your crew and wasn't drunk off the brew
Would you still pull gats?
You need to stop frontin'
Or you're headed for self destruction
Yeah, today's topic is self-destruction
I ain't talkin 'bout the KRS-One discussion
I'm talkin 'bout the one too many ignorant suckas
Lyin' on the mic to my sistas and brothas
Everytime you listen to the radio, all you hear is nonsense
They never play the bomb sh*t
Everything that glitters ain't gold
And every gold record don't glitter that's for damn sure

Time and time, a brother asks why
The rhyme is not laced with a gangsta touch
I said "Simply because I don't live that way
Still kickin' them rhymes rugged and rough"
"But that won't sell,
cause you gotta keep it real
so that we can feel
where you're coming from
Because these streets is ill so if you ain't
killing niggas in rhymes
your whole sound's just bubble gum"
I said "I won't contribute to genocide;
I'd rather try to cultivate the inner side
and try to evolve the frustrated ghetto mind
The devil and his army never been a friend of mine"
"But niggas don't wanna hear that shit" said the brother
Who was obviously totally misled and yelled out
"murder murder, kill, murder" instilled in the influential thoughts
Of our kids' heads

sup binary star

this song kicks ass

This is a story of a kid his name is Cisko (Cisko)
Who made more money than the Count of Monte Crisco (Crisco)
He lived a lavish style of life, fast money women cars
and he liked to frequent bars pubs and discos (discos)
Made his living as a world famous rap star (rap star)
When he first started mic respect's what he was af-ter (AF-ter)
And so he got inside his mind, day and night, and he'd write
constantly his art and craft he'd try to mas-ter (MAS-ter)
Started winnin local battles and his rep grew (rep grew)
Gave his crew a reputation as the best crew (best crew)
And what life would do to him, all the cards that was hard
pen and ped, stress relief would be his refuge (RE-fuge)
Paid his dues, doing shows, now he's on track (ON track)
In the lab, pumping demos, makin songs fat (SONGS fat)
Then he quit his nine to five, finally his time arrived
when he signed a major label record contract

Don't let money change ya!

Laaaaah, di-dah, da-da-dee-dah
Lah-di-dah, da-da-dee-dah (4X)