Woorden: Saukrates. P's & Q's.

Captiol Hill, yeah
(Chorus)
Ain't nobody with the skills we got
Putting shit together just to form another plot
Better be on your P's and Q's
Here's a message from me to you, bloow
Ain't nobody with the skills we got
Always putting shit together just to form another plot
Better be on your P's and Q's
Here's a message from me to you, bloow

Verse 1:
I break you off a little something
There ain't no reason to be frontin'
He sat with a cold blunt in hand, other nothing
Pick up my pen, begin
To let my mind bend again
Rush with thoughts, bust, discuss how I'm finishing
Cleaning niggas off, you just a pig who need a bigger trough
While I chill on the land of the lore
With your raps sound soft
Beats never coming off
How you feel? I know you thought you were reeeaall
Losing you skill, what's the deal?
Peeling caps on you record
Interludes on some y'all ain't even seen real steal
Imagine if you will kid, getting ill on a record
Making dough, but it's your own shit still
Now's time to play big Will nigga
After you learn how to play the field, rocking the act vigor
Trigger in you clutches
Remembering the time you thought of doing niggas
Spoke about the dutches
New style every month from Tony Touches
You capitalize on franchise type of shit
Generic in your eyes
No name brand the same
But can't even do it like the orginal Fame
Get that ass out the game
Nigga, what!

(Chorus)


Honey! Where do you think you're going with my money?
Broke you off last week, Yo!
Girl listen funny, you thinking you're runnin'
On some different type shit
But your position at present could get your wig split
Baby, what!
I know we cool like that because, we known each other for years
And all the time we was on the same level
But you turned up the treble
Not me I became a hip-hop MC
On the other hand, babee
You think of profiling as an acuvision (?)
Last year was a different situation
Hanging out with the niggas, when you were in need to kick back
Smoking BDs, mixing hash with weed
Denim and army fatigues
You were never afraid to put degrees on a nigga who slapped up ya seat
Now you're chilling with some type Johnny G type of cat
Put you up in the crib
Now you think you're all that
Fly DKNY, Versace panties on your ass
But, your son's looking like crass and tripping up in class
Correct that bullshit, fast!
And quit coming around my niggas begging for cash
That's you boyfriend's task
I heard he 'tacked you up really bad the other day
'Cause I can hear your seed screaming, running my way
Time to talk to that fool, cause my sons don't play
Ah, honey, next time you change, don't stray
You hear me?

(Chorus)

Ain't nobody, skills we got,
Ain't nobody, Saukrates y'all
Better be on your P's and Q's
Here's a message from me to you, bloow