(feat. Jean Grae , Talib Kweli) 



[Chorus: x2] 

Power, money and influence 

I had a taste of it, now I'm all into it 

The game ain't over 'till I get my share 

'till I have my run, this here is my year 



[Jean Grae] 

Man, I'm a tycon, whether in person or slick right on 

Crisp Nikes on, six niggaz with sick pythons 

Right around your area, face close like a scared 

straight playin your host, you get bitched out 

This ain't fluffin a rang, this clip ain't bang 

You sittin lame duck, shittin on the names stuck 

I vow this year, power's mine 

If I gotta sketch up my name, empowering rhymes 

If I gotta attend jail just to boost up the sales 

I know a laber owner that I'd love to bruise up for bail 

I know my family got it, they pull together but it's amniotic 

I mean baby like askin for a name spot it 

The talent, the influental and erotic 

Put on the back burner but potential as a parent 

Every track is a murder but could treat it like lobonic 

The play that graze here, now MC's in a daze mind 



[Chorus] 



[Guru] 

In one second flat I tear your whole frame 

Plus we pack like a stadium does, at a pro game 

Got so many ways to end yo glory 

Rub you out, shut you down, then it's end of story 

I'm like Robert Horry with a clutch three 

You can't touch me, the black double oh-seven, nigga trust me 

Modern day Ali when it comes to the rhyme 

Know how to hold the fort down when they comin for mine 

I'm crafty, I move swift and changeable 

Plus I'm aware, of what jealousy and anger do 

You can't help yourself then you can't help me 

Can't smell what the truth is then you can't smell me 

You can tell a million stories about how gully you are 

Then as soon as you finish, I'm be pullin your card 

I step so courageously, I rap so amazingly 

I guess you could say, that niggaz slept on me basically 



[Chorus x2] 



[Talib Kweli] 

Jean Grae, Kweli, Guru, for the first time 

Let the games begin like Jaceson Taylor wrote his first rhyme 

Technology make niggaz lazy, with the pro tools 

Even you could write your verse in the booth like you were Jay-Z 

A Hollywood between reality tv and rap 

Is there ain't no more use for the classically trained actor 

First light bulb ever made is still burnin 

They sell the ones that burn out to take the money you earnin 

Word that marijuana grow too natural to be a cash crop 

we have cops at bars, smokin squares, throwin back shots 

They walk the street and bring the heat to the apshalts 

Servin, protectin the half, beatin on the half not 

Niggaz talk greasy in the magazines 

'Till they track down and you hear the sounds of loaded magazines 

Havin dreams 'till they ribs got a gat in between 

Passion for cream, make a nigga wanna splatter your spleen 

That shit is mean 



[Chorus x2]