Shabazz The Disciple - Organized Rime, Part 2 lyrics

(Chorus: repeat 2X) Yo god, I'm tryna stack and get a castle, cook lyrical keys in the lab Bag 'em on 2 inch plates, DAT's too Organized rime, time is money Hustle nickels of vinyl, ca**ettes are dimes and a CD's a twenty (Verse 1) Yo, I used to roll with the thugs, who sold d** And put slugs in dealers who turned squealers The cap pealers, high rollers, big money wheelers n***az who'll spank a n***a, in front of his moms without feelings The transporters, importers and exporters Putting hits out on P.O.'s, judges and sargeants and news reporters Most of the Gods I used to do crimes with Ended up in Sing-Sing infirmary, getting their a**hole stitched Wifey with a switch, ya godfather turned snitch They up North, while we out in New York, trying to get rich I worked my way up from grindin and measurin Credit card schemes and crimes and embezzlin I kept climbin Sugar Hill to get the treasures and Striving for diamonds and a million dead presidents Some left murder weapons, fingerprints and evidence Hot hit with 25, the feds sabotaged their residence (Chorus) (Verse 2) Scrambling to get the cream, kept the rap dream Living on 2 planes of reality caught in between Wanted the best of both worlds chasing material Snake n***az play the priest Throwing the dirt at my burial My world consisted of s**, lust, money and l's Now I get lifted off exodus 20 and 12 My role models, were the brothers on the corner who sold bottles Out on parole the mind and soul of aristotle Red Hook was like a mafia flick Never got to cop me a brick We used to plot to stick poppi and sh** Sitting pretty in a white land, my man had the right plan Flights to get his head right in white sands Sipping cristal, pimping a pistol Till his a** got shipped up to fishcale He used to cop 2 bricks watch his chips pile Now he sit in a cell, praying for a mis-trial (Chorus) (Verse 3) When DEA rushed the crib we flushed an ounce on them Handcuffed in the hall and we still tried to bounce on them Hit rock bottom then we catch another loan shark Scale our rocks, to get a 8 ball hit the pawn shop Street dreams weighing a cake on a triple beam Heat schemes, playing for papes my team crippled fiends Investing money into street stocks, my peeps used to keep glocks Slap you up and give you speed knots In the diamond district yanking ice chains The Gods used to heist trains Then late at night stick the dice games 5 bombs of lah and rock up in the mailbox C.O.'s had n***az sell rocks from their cell blocks Most of the gods got bagged and got indicted Some had open cases out of state and they got extradicted Some tried to fight it, blew trial on their appeal Got uncorrect bails, for smuggling guns and direct sales (Chorus)