Juice Magazin - More or Less lyrics

(Foxy) Gyeah (Shyne) Gyeah, walk with me (Foxy) Gyeah, It's like New York's been soft Ever since my n***a Shyne been sittin' in prison Yeah [Verse 1] Shyne Check it, sick things, sick rings, this sh** is sickening Sick chains sick aim, 5th bang 5th frame Bail money lawyers actin' funny when I come through Hit 'em with a bundle on the humble Couple notes, seen Boy George with a Rolls sh**, I want one too What the f** I'm gon' do But get it if it's there to be gotten 'til I'm dried and rotten And I'm rockin' sideways muthaf**a crime pays I need it, I'll get it, I got it, I'll chop it, I'll double the profit And bubble the pockets, I'm living to die n***as talk fly 'til I walk by and pop somethin' Muthaf**as forgot somethin', I'm not frontin' This ain't rap, music this ain't that You f** around I'll have you sleepin' where the saints at Sincerely yours Shyne muthaf**in' Po b**h get yo' bags hit the muthaf**in' do' [Hook] (2x) May the angels walk with me, more or less Big things, big rims n***a, more or less f**in' big stars in big cars, more or less I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less [Verse 2] A G is a G, a ki is a ki, a snitch is a fish (as in kilo) With no fins that can't swim when I dump him in the river Charcoal gray R, 12 cylinders bulletproof sentences Trial day tentative I sound like who? ya'll sound like trash Get off my dick and pa** my cash They don't do it cause I rap about it I rap about it cause they do it My music's the conduit to a ticket, I live it b**h n***a, I cook it and pitch it Wipe the prints up off the sh** and ditch it, uh Hip-Hop ain't responsible for violence in America America's responsible for violence America Back to the flow nose full of blow Rolls full of hoes, leave a n***a clothes full of holes The schools didn't want me so the drug dealers taught me Simple math, step on it twice and bring it back Get 4 times what you paid, divide the labor costs And still come away with enough to play And I see the same sh** in n***as younger than me Runnin' the streets lookin for somethin' to eat [Hook] 2x [Verse 3] Ole boy betta get down better run for cover When I spit rounds ah you in some sh** now Get found slit down to the white meat I'm from Brooklyn, Vietnam n***a, I like beef But being a bird in the street, double plight Livin' a troubled life, father was a jerk Moms had to work, papi had the works So I did what any real n***a would do Got in front the stove, now I got this sh** sold f** you punk n***as wit' yo' punk cash Let the pump blast, put yo punk a** in the trunk fast The f** y'all thought I bury n***as in walls, I'mma trill muthaf**a after all Point blank shootin n***as point blank all the way to the bank Rip yo face off then I take off The difference between me and them, you won't be seein' them No more, n***a, secrets of war [Hook] 4x