More Than Gold

Lyrics
[Intro] * man speaking in Japanese * [Verse 1: Bronze Nazareth] I'm a king with no rings, but we can box in one I'm toxic, spun off the marksmen epiglottis Ex-robbers, vile toting, swinging totem pole Cobra ax flow, niggas spinning jacks slow Government remote control, my brain power Rain shower, man and gods, what's the odds Even if I'm wrong, I'm still right, get large Seven Wise, hitman, hit squad, dip bars In golden jars, I speak a sunshine flow Stir a drumline slow, like gumbo Ayo, my music testifies And if it's not 5 mics, it's at least ten dimes Throw a rope up to God, maybe you'll climb this high In the tree house, I'm tree'd out, speak about Something, to think about a bleed out Flee to my house, hold a tree to my mouth, inhale it's Brain tsunami, hope your chain and all your property Is enough to keep you, on top of the water Shallow niggas sink deep, and there's sharks in the water Who run the soundboards, from here to abroad While y'all niggas sleep as if the Lord had called, uh [Break] * man speaking in Japanese * [Interlude: Timbo King] Yeah, yeah, that's who it is Yo, Bronze, you gon' get a gold medal on this one Yo, Kruger, I got my thinking cap on, listen.. [Verse 2: Timbo King (GZA)] Look, I will murk you, holmes I'm Muhammad Ali, I will hurt you, holmes You ain't nice as hell, you a Comic View rapper You should write for Chappelle (Konichiwa bitches!) Let's spit the pie fucking three ways Now we got enough gwop up to pay DJs Punch rappers, blood in they mouth, sell it on eBay Niggas got G5's now up in the PJ's Wanna pull wool over eyes, go get a sheep And the G's shall inherit the streets over police Cop jars of that white widow, write it on a memo Internet thugs, they get thrown out of their windows Fight club, I grab mics with Nike gloves Inside night pubs, we smash light bulbs I break niggas up like glass dishes, I'm past vicious Before I bury your ass, any last wishes? Dry ice, I'm rockin' your man into fried rice Fucking with Bo, you could die twice The game is fixed, they pulled the same tricks on Zab Hop out of cabs, right in front of Sacks, Fifth Ave Fuck Bloomberg, new law, marrying fags You should get a job in Pathmark, carrying bags Spit hotter than a day in Nevada, with a mink on Father, slash corporate, without the pink on Y'all dudes got a problem And I ain't talking 'bout Mathematics and his album I'm famous, amongst the streets in all projects The Black Rick Rubin when I'm putting out a project See me on Canal, plus cursing in my sentence Smiling, Medicaid paid for the dentist A dollar goes a long way if you spending pennies Might wind up broke surrounded by them gimmes Loose ball, you can chirp, you can Boost call Shots rain out, from the top of the roof, y'all Smoke screen, I smoke green, light a Dutch up What's that, diesel, son? I'm cold blooded, Rick James, up in my veins Hurricane, heroin done flooded Besides the shows, online sales and features I've done made more money this year than teachers [Verse 3: Bronze Nazareth] I hit the smoke stacker like my bitch is battered Might shatter like pipe dreams, splatter ya gray matter When things get rough, pull something from my sleeve Longer than Joker gun, keep hope alively With a smoking gun, I discipate a Crimson gate Escape and scrape the fishscale straight, move the plate High maneuvers, blue street pie for dinner Considered a sinner, simmer my lines like roaches shimmer Leftover bread winner, a lively dead winter Since my placenta had adventure grammar My wild life is trife like arachnids trapped in amber No one can shit on these schemes with pitiful means Put you under hospital beams, inaudible screams My possible scam, a sonogram of modern man Harbor, G. Carver plans, why do we sit in stance?
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Credits
- Writers
- Bronze Nazareth
- Timbo King