Termanology - 100 Jewels lyrics

(Get the truth!) [Termanology:] 100 j**els on 'em Put Eazy E, Common Sense, Mobb Deep, Rakim, put 'em in a blender Truth. Hood knowledge. Get the f** out the way; Termanology! They say I'm a righteous cat I write righteous raps But I cut coke, cook it to crack Thinking what kind of life is that? Get tossed in the bin Never knowin' when you might come back I listen to Jesse Jack Black clip in the gat And write lyrics to the soul of Geronimo Pratt I'm talkin' to anyone who got a problem with that I'm everywhere, tell me where your metropolitan at I'm right there doin' a show Chain out, by myself My fist in the air, bang out by myself That's why your girl wanna polish my knob And every rapper in the city wanna poli so hard But before I do a song with y'all I'll blow my brains out on the Bible And call it the knowledge of God My cousin Gutta get the problems resolved He specialize in cuttin' up n***as nice And doin' robberies, dog Probably y'all And when I'm whippin' the gauge You gonna be gone in 60 seconds like Nicholas Cage Pay attention when I'm rippin' the page When I'm not on stage I feel plagued with meticulous rage I seen my first n***a shot at a ridiculous age Before Earvin Magin Johnson was a victim of AIDS Cats thinking cause they sit and they pray Because they Christian they safe Til reality just spit in they face But I'll tell you one thing When bullets start flying Jesus Christ ain't gonna sit in the way Like modern-day slaves how we sit in the maze Won't pay your child support but you could chip in for haze My baby mama been trippin' for days She hate the fact I'm a star And model b**hes wanna sit on my face She'd love to see a brother sit in a cage Take my daughter away And let another n***a sit in my place Momma told me that it's only a phase But I told Ma dukes, before that I'd put a clip in my fade That's way too much opportunity to sit and embrace The evolution of man, we been sittin' in caves Before I ever had a nickel to blaze Meanin' a nickel of weed Or a nickel 9 spittin' them strays I been tryin' to get my sh** on the waves DJs holdin' me down but never play my sh** in the days It's no way that I might win With only the night spins But- but- but- I ain't gonna sit and complain Old timers slingin' sh** in they veins They mad as hell Cause they know it won't hit 'em the same Can't slip in any chicken these days Give 'em a trip in the Range And they be lickin' on a pickle with AIDS I wish my grandmama could have heard this sh** from the grave I know she would have loved to hear her boy rip it this way Over the beat Life's so cold in the street You might get shot up or you could go in your sleep To all my soldiers that die for they flag Or that die for their rag It's messed up you had to lay in a bag It's no fair ones Ain't no more relyin' on jabs Now you supply with a mask And a guy'll just blast It's f**ed up I gotta ride in a cab But as soon as I get a check I gotta divide it in half I feel like I should be right in a Jag On the flight with a mag And 100 Gs right in the stash They don't wanna see a Puerto Rican writing this bad Cause when I write on the pad I get it tight and they mad I'm hyper but sad Cause I got a lot of fame in rap But I'm back livin' right with my dad I'm part French, part spic, how racist is it that Police wanna treat me like I'm basically black I'm basically that And you don't wanna talk about my gats Cause they like Charlie Baltimore, they German and black It's hard to earn, but I'm earnin' the stat This the moment of truth So I'm tryin' to write verses like that My vocals burn, set fire to tracks They admirin' that That's why my CDs fly off the rack Groupie b**hes they be showin' me love When I roll in the club They lovin' the way that I flow on the drums Plus the way I make dough in the slums Keep smoke in the lungs And write rhymes more potent than d** Y'all don't wanna end up chokin' on slugs With a throat full of blood You should watch how you open your mug Watch how it go down when them pistols around Cause you could end up with a slug through your wisdom and chow Bullets flying through your kitchen and blaow More people in the church than the christening now Isn't it foul Probably could've been avoided but you was too paranoid Off sniffin' you ain't seein' choices My voice is something like Kennedy Except you gon' remember me for k**in' these mics Not gettin' murked out by my enemies I'm livin' the life most of these rap n***as pretend to be Sellin' mean gettin' locked up by the police and my friend'll be Way past due if I lay past two So I'm on that early bird sh**, grey that goose Homie make that loot And when you baggin' up dimes of drawer It's better to make that loose Cause it look like it's way more to these customers They don't understand the agenda of real hustlers They just wanna cop what you're sellin' and roll dutches up Get they minds stimulated and away from the troubles of Situations that we go through throughout our daily life Which homie banging your wife It's probably an A you like (And he wanna tell you) But he dont know how he can say it right You'll probably pick up a knife And slay him that very night Then I dont be wifin' up b**hes Cause they be trife Make you put it on the line Like Ghost and baby Trife Get you shot up in your ride Like BIG and Obie Trice The bullets ain't nothing nice But until I see the light-- I'mma live