been cast a dismal grey. fighting to keep the voice alive, i cannot left it end this way...i`m held- in the arms of the few! i walk in a line with the
roster Scratch that, I'm talkin' about a full roster of raps, monstas that rap Buzzed out later check the cadence of the frequency Uniquely, we strong arms strategically Easily I twist
the order to Trife Dies', and he gon' send 'em fast, they flying in These cowards couldn't clash our lion's den That forty-four mag'll twist ya aves
really want the war Golden Arms bringin the swell Y'all want the fuckin hardcore Golden Arms bringin the swell Young guns out for the cause Golden Arms
my name out loud and mispronounce me Hit me four five rubber grip me them hoes love me in a five But the dealer trying to six me, dimes wanna twist me
want, the god that you need... Calling out to the young and the old The torched, the twisted, metallic and cold Forge and fire, unwilling to bleed The few
Me and the girls, out after work Drinkin' margaritas, one night After a few, the conversation turned to The kind of guys we like One only dates doctors
it, bit it You can be a ridah and ride, or a coward and hide Either way you go against me, you still gon' die I got four macs, a few nines, I'm ready
a chorus You said you co-wrote the grand corpus With no ifs, ands, or buts To listen to derivative works of this art-fag I need to be in arms reach of
The lost and insincere They think I need to hear What's in their empty eyes, eyes, eyes We're few and far between We've hardly been serene But stand
the frame With shock announcements T-Minus and countin' Effects control and bouncin' Star studded and flooded like fountains A new machine Real artists are few
mankind did bow beneath the power of her hand And in the monastery garden sat a woman with a book A manuscript that lay within her frail and trembling arms
her hand And in the monastery garden sat a woman with a book A manuscript that lay within her frail and trembling arms She looked around her nervously
daggers at the nape of the neck, while the back is turned. This was supposed to be trust, supposed to be for us. Now it all belongs to the few, and only
Little girl sits in the corner, locked in a stare Arms waving madly at something that sadly isn't there Dressed in the day's best by a nurse who's nowhere
said, "You're a gangster" But she was caught up, she hit the floor like a break dance Wrapped her up like the arms in a B-boy stance Recognize moms,
be his bride She told me that love was mostly illusion Then laughs like a child, it hides her confusion Twisting and turning, finally falling Twisting and turning, finally falling Twisting