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Line by line. I can upload it if need be, but come on now, that REALLY shouldn't be necessary.
Poll Results
| Option | Votes |
| Money busting out my sock cos I really would clock | 1 |
| My name is G. Rap, I'm on the road to the riches | 1 |
| My name is Kool G Rap, I'm on the road to the riches | 1 |
| Mellow, yellow fellow, tell or hell, hello | 1 |
| In the first time in my life loaning money to dad | 1 |
| Little spoiled kids inheriting oil wells | 0 |
| At enemies who tried to clock G's | 0 |
| on my block, now they forever knock Zs | 0 |
| Looking for crack on carpets and rugs | 0 |
| Plans of rampages went for ages | 0 |
| Some got knocked and locked inside cages | 0 |
| Some bit the dust for crumbs and crusts | 0 |
| In God We Trust, now rots to rust | 0 |
| In fact that was a way to get back | 0 |
| Bombs were planted, the kids were kidnapped | 0 |
| Face got erased, bullets got released | 0 |
| I was the type on the opposite side | 0 |
| Of smoking the pipe, in a beef I got hype | 0 |
| Cos rags to riches switches men to bitches | 0 |
| Become stitches, body bags in ditches | 0 |
| Bloodshed, I painted the town red | 0 |
| People fled as I put a dread's head to bed | 0 |
| That means dead, in other words deceased | 0 |
| The squealers tells but the dealer still sells | 0 |
| A thug amongst the drugs, he eventually bugs | 0 |
| Plus caps to cops, policeman drops | 0 |
| And than a-wait and wait and wait | 0 |
| Til he breaks, that's all it takes | 0 |
| So he fakes to be a man, but he can't stand | 0 |
| On his own two feet because now he's in a new land | 0 |
| Rules are different and so is life | 0 |
| When you think with a shank, talk with a knife | 0 |
| Not my lifestyle so I made a U-turn | 0 |
| More money I earn, more money to burn | 0 |
| Pushing all buttons, pulling all switches | 0 |
| But just state ship him upstate by the Great Lakes | 0 |
| One court date can turn an outlaw to an inmate | 0 |
| His lawyer so good his bail is on sale | 0 |
| Troopers, soldiers, rolling like boulders | 0 |
| Eyes of hate and their hearts get colder | 0 |
| Some young male put in jail | 0 |
| Looking at the hourglass, how long can this power last? | 0 |
| Longer than my song but he already fell | 0 |
| He likes to eat hearty, party | 0 |
| Be like John Gotti, and drive a Maserati | 0 |
| Rough in the ghetto, but in jail he's Jello | 0 |
| You blew off his top when the pistol went pop | 0 |
| My name is Kool G Rap, I'm on the road to the riches | 0 |
| When I was five years old I realized there was a road | 0 |
| Shoes are scuffed cos the road gets rough | 0 |
| But I'm a rock it till my pockets ain't stuffed enough | 0 |
| All the freaks wouldn't speak cos my checks was weak | 0 |
| They would turn the other cheek so I started to seek | 0 |
| A way to get a play, and maybe one day | 0 |
| I'll be performing up a storm for a decent pay | 0 |
| No matter how it seems I always kept the dream | 0 |
| All the girlies scream and suckers get creamed | 0 |
| Dreamed about it for five years straight | 0 |
| Took the time, I wrote rhymes in the shower | 0 |
| All my manpower for four bucks an hour | 0 |
| At the end I will win lots of pots of gold | 0 |
| Never took a break, never made a mistake | 0 |
| Took time to create 'cos there's money to make | 0 |
| To be a billionaire takes hard work for years | 0 |
| Some nights I shed tears while I said my prayers | 0 |
| Been through hard times, even worked part time | 0 |
| In a ?seafood? store sweeping floors for dimes | 0 |
| I was sort of a porter taking the next man's orders | 0 |
| Breaking my back with a shack for headquarters | 0 |
| Finally I got a break and cut my first plate | 0 |
| The road ain't yellow and there ain't no witches | 0 |
| In a small-time casino, the town's Al Pacino | 0 |
| For all of the girls, the pretty boy Valentino | 0 |
| I shot up stores and I kicked down doors | 0 |
| Collecting scars from little neighborhood wars | 0 |
| Many legs I broke, many necks I choked | 0 |
| And if provoked I let the pistol smoke | 0 |
| Loyal members in a crew now down with the game | 0 |
| Selling nickels and dimes, sunshine or rain | 0 |
| What I had was bad from my shoes to my pad | 0 |
| And I wasn't too far from a Jaguar car | 0 |
| Money, jewelry, living like a star | 0 |
| I used to stand on the block selling cooked up rock | 0 |
| They were for kind of fiends bringing jackets and jeans | 0 |
| Magazines, anything, just to hustle for beans | 0 |
| The cash was coming fast, money grew like grass | 0 |
| People hungry for the blast that don't even last | 0 |
| Didn't want to be involved but the money will get cha | 0 |
| Getting richer and richer, the police took my picture | 0 |
| But I still supplied, some people I knew died | 0 |
| Murders and homicides for bottles of suicide | 0 |
| Now the table's turned and my lifestyle switches | 0 |
― Oilyrags, Friday, 26 October 2007 23:15 (eighteen years ago)
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