Klass Murda - Price of Fame lyrics

[Verse 1: Klass Murda] I ain't ever think that we would make it off of reefer Got a plug downtown and one way in Catalina Showed my man the blueprint and made him a believer And my plug look like he related to Selena Your weed smell like sh*t and not a soul want it My weed KRS-One, it got a nose on it You speakin’ to the big ape, could turn you to a big plate I got shooter from Cayuga to Midstate And got shooters in the street, dumpin’ out the Jeep Cherokee If the ni**a don’t die, he gon’ need therapy I just bought a new 40, I grip it and hit him with it When I’m done it “click, click” like pictures on prison visits Rеal dope boy, my whole town know Part-time rappеr, they still tryna steal my sound though, it’s Murda [Verse 2: Ransom] They say I’m a gift from God but possessed by a dark energy A dull blade can always be sharpened by smart enemies A hundred arms like large centipedes, dark tendencies Every clip I got for the game is like Bob Menery’s Breakin’ down these plays in a vulgar fashion, you tryna box? sh*t, you ain’t gotta wait for no lull in action, I come relax him Body drop, your focus is leavin’ ni**a, no one distract him One attraction, money and murder, that was my hunger passion Now it’s money deals with my Jewish lawyer Champagne under my chandelier in my newest foyer Look in the eyes of your closest friends and see who was for ya Now look in the eyes of them same friends and see who destroys ya, damn Get paid handsomely but actually ugly Don’t smile when you shakin’ my hand, don’t ever laugh when you hug me I know the cut of your jib, don’t gotta ask if you love me This fifth’ll crush up your ribs and blow off half of your skully, it’s Duffel [Verse 3: Che Noir] The price of fame, I fill these mics with pain, redefine the game The art of war, don’t need a knife or gun, when your mind’s the blade My life a maze, I come from a city full of crime and pain A bunch of ni**as playin’ dice or spades, twistin’ microbraids Top five and if these ni**as sleep, they sleep inside a grave A sniper’s aim, trigger pull, a bullet land inside his brain The paramedics searchin’ for a pulse, but they can’t find a vein His family stressed, whisper silent pray, scream and cry his name Look, they put a Black person for sale Use churches and tell, that the man we worship is pale If you could read, that’s why they murdered the males Now it’s ironic how these ni**as catch a sentence ‘fore they learn how to spell We sittin’ courtside, I don’t watch the Lakers from a skybox Road to riches most ni**as crash, 'cause of blind spots Pen game cold, invest my figures and I buy stock My drip game cold, could squeeze a river from a eye drop, ni**a