(intro) – b.ware

Birth it and beat it, kill it and grieve it
bury and leave it, hurry retrieve it
the money mislead you, see what that greed do
a dyin’ breed cryin’, “Lord lead our seeds back to you!”

(chorus) – b.ware

unh! Yeah, Grope the money, such a tease
Khujo told me never float in the mainstream
but I lust, the perks when submerged, it’s a curse
gotta trust your heart and your art… it starts…

(verse 1) – b.ware

yeah, off the cutting board
chopped up sentences, submitted to film scores
clear? Dear to the heart’s chores
core strong as earth’s when birthed into this war
of fear… language of lame laymen
poke ya chest, bloated ya inner-force
nah, tainted… blame men for your sores
tame him ‘cause Damiens in his pores
deaf ear, devil is at the level of the city
got’em shifty where the poor stay busy
words once was uplifting, check The Source
man, the magazine clips depict whores
while magazine clips dump, chumps slump to floors
fillin’ morgues, give’em more words to write for
the story’s never boring, keep killin’
forever trapped in a movie but the money moves he
and our children

(chorus 2) – b.ware

Grope the money, such a tease
Khujo told me never float in the mainstream
but I lust, the perks when submerged, it’s a curse
gotta trust your heart and your art…
so, write for the right these jawns for the wrong
hold your head high, it won’t be long
all you can do is try with each and every song
never sell them out, they’ll Love you when you gone

(verse 2) – b.ware
(don’t fall in Love with the shiny things)

I said, even zippers fly, nigga… if you ain’t catch that
then you got a long drive to the green like Phil Mickel
let out a long sigh to my team for my niggas
in the rough and we bogeyed up, I’m tryna eagle
‘cause even zippers fly… I mean inanimate objects soar
so why you deny the gift you was granted for
afforded fortunes yet you orphan your orders, abandon your daughters
for fortresses and more quarters
pour quarts of champagne, order whores in short
dresses, campaigning “ignore the message!”
but we ain’t shit but a message, either blessed or devilish
lull’em to sleep with sedative beats, I cry and I weep
as they die in the streets, mentally, peace Hosni
men’s casualties tallying up, my flesh too is corrupt
so I’m cool, no rush, we the dogs they mush
yeah the tools is us, prove you ain’t touched
nigga what!

(chorus 2) – b.ware

(verse 3) – b.ware

at Magic City he was a Kraft singles tosser, the dimes would often offer
lap dance for free of charge-uh, just to swim in his aura
we’ll call him John Conner ‘cause Terminators did try to off’em
toted a Mossburg pump to keep haters off’em
pushed a black Charger, rhymes were black Chaucer
I mean, Canterbury Tales from the hood, a worthy author
banter wording was always proper, propped up
at the top like Big Poppa once was, kids Loved him like Tonka
to niggas he was 2pac the, government had to ostra-
cize him for his ideas and influence on his peers
it brewed like a beer, then fizzed, God saw his tears
fought the media monster, religious bodies indoctri-
nated his patrons with hatred for him, shakin’ his faith and
patience, he wasn’t proper enough to share their God
but he could reach them Waka Flockas where them preachers can’t
see the horror the fame fosters, my niggas it’ll cost ya

(chorus 2 2x) – b.ware

(don’t fall in Love with the shiny things)
(don’t fall in Love with the shiny things this life can bring)