My Soul Lyrics

Soul
My soul
My soulSoul
My soul
My soulYou can try to throw salt, but I keep my game face on
And the only thing on your mind is stalkin' more digits than a telephone
Me and thirty-nine thieves jumpin' out of white Hummer
From Compton, while your crew get Dumb and DumberGrew up straight out of low cash like CB fo'
Now I got dough and you got one night stands like gangsta, yo
See on the low it's all gravy
But the threat of this new world order is about to drive me crazyAnd all you want is the Lex and gold Visa
Bomb singles and stackin' your chips like Pringles
While my rhymes jack for platinum plaques
Quicker than one time Jack Black'sI twist sacks and sip yac
Plus, the Invisible Man got my back like a spine
So, why you all up in mine?
Keep the money and the fame 'cause all I really wanna hold
Is my artistic flavor and control of my soulSoul

My soul
My soulSoul
My soul
My soulAin't no tellin', most women are still waitin' and sellin'
Most of my homies is ex-felons
In two decades, rap went from Planet Rock to crack rock
Now, everybody got a glock and it don't stop till another brother dropThat's why I poured out a little drink for the homie Pac
What's a thin line between love and hate?
A million dollars in the bank and you still can't escape
It's a small world, after all, you're claustrophobic, you can't breatheSo store your ball like Christopher Reeve
It's the hater in you that makes you criticize me
'Cause if you handled your business then yo ass would see
Nineteen-ninety-seven is still crackin'And I'ma get the ladies out their seat
Like this was a car jackin'
They say the game is to be sold, not told
You can keep your bankroll, I want control of my soulSoul
My soul
My soulSoul
My soul
My soulMy jaws flip across sixteen bars like Dominique Dawes
But without no flaws, never broke a M.C. Law
See, I was servin' wack rappers at the school
When Bruce Lee was scrappin' with Kareem AbdulYou got into triple beams and guns, you ain't gon' shoot
I seen a million rappers in the same Versace suit
Or the same pair of locs, that's probably why you're broke
And your backstage and your ghetto pass got revokedScrappin' or rappin' what you want to happen?
If I ever come up short you the first one I'm jackin'
It's thieves in the area like aircraft carrier's
We're launchin' F-15's and Anti-Wack Maf MachinesMichropone, sittin' on my vocal chord
Sendin' busta's to the crossroads like Thuggish Ruggish Bone
It's the C O O L I O, well I, won't fold
When I'm controllin' my soulSoul
My soul
My soulSoul
My soul
My soulSoul
My soul
My soul