I COULD BE SO GOLDEN SHINE IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT FOR YOU I COULD BE A CRIMINAL AND LEAD A LIFE OF CRIME FOR YOU I COULD BE SO GOLDEN SHINE IN THE
it up fool, hey ni**a, haha) Tell me how you feel homey (Yeah, it took a week to go down) You recollects and see how crazy it sounds The whole town'
keeps it real! [Hook] [Layzie] I keep my mind on my money, my money on my mind A straight up soldier in the field out here pushin my line Nigga designed a gold
better hide 'cause I already warned ya Mo Thug Records taking over I told ya. Soldier man your post Better cover your coast and lock all entries If one of my sounds
like a Elohim Nah Mean In a casino or a yacht Wherever Im seen My brothers and sisters are never forgot Nah Mean Dont wanna hear another soldier drop
buzzards and the soldiers guns Oh great father of the Iroquois ever since I was young I've read the writing of the smoke and breast fed on the sound
let go The gun shots and the homicides just don't stop And just because I came up, I can always drop Yo.. we come prepared for guerilla warfare Never scared soldiers
Underground railroad RZA track lay it down I'm hard as pavement, you gaze from amazement Knock you in the head you wonder where the days went It's golden
off to the 'Nolia state From the Empire State to the Golden Gate (Ewww!) Yo' flow kinda nasty That shit reminds me of a track meet Problem is, your rhyme sounds
: (feat. Dr. Dre) {*Intro sound of flame: Dr. Dre's "Chronic" trademark*} [Dre] YEAH! [Jay] Uh uhh uh-uhh, boom boom boom [Dre] D-R-E! [Jay] Say it
ceremony old school ministry funky testimony latin jazzy dj funky grandmaster music ambassador of italian (sound blaster) generous like generous is the sound
sun was setting on a golden photo op Back in the days of "mission accomplished" Thousands of bodies in the ground Brought home in boxes to a trumpet's sound
Gonna keep punchin' on, to the sound of her own beatin' drum [Nas] Fight 'til the fight is over, for my peoples I die see When you thought they were soldiers
illegal substance sold Roll mob deep, guns in the black Jeep Mac-11's and legends, cracks in the streets Patroller, gold money-folder, gun happy soldiers
world let's just take it, hi-ii-iiigh [Pras Michel] Well I was often told I was off my road Never sold my soul for the glitter of gold Let the truth
m spillin these cold raps, cause I am a soldier (C) You shoulda been told that (E) cause I am a throwback I'm spillin these cold raps, you feelin the soldier
Patrone Like Cypress Hill I'm insane in the brain My niggas, clear the lane I'm comin' to bring the pain (She comin'!) Time for a change, ya'll all sound
