Hungry

Common

Composição de: Ernest Wilson/Lonnie Lynn
Yo niggaz don't want none of this 
Niggaz know they can't fuck with this 
Turn this shit up just a little more 

I walk the night in rhymin armor bomb a nigga like a winter coat 
Have him on Death Row searchin for an Interscope 
Yet I sparkle like Irene Cara 
Symbolize dope like sirens do terror 
Mariel just had a baby someone else decapitated 
Flashbacks of past raps make me so glad I made it 
Players is gettin traded 
I drop a gem off, them who's style is jaded 
My juice is grated 
Shit is so bangin niggaz say it's gang related 
On philosopher's rink of thought, I've skated with precision 
Crews is gettin split like decisions 
Com will let it ride in collision 
Vision like Colleco or tele, I battle stars in stellar... 
Regions, my thought scheme was my like my offspring 
Now, it's teethin 
My reason of rhyme applies to season and time 
Season of mind , body and regions divine 
In mom's cookouts, I'm leavin the swine 
Verbal vegeterian, squashed beef with Ice Cube 
Came in this rap life nude 
Now I'm fully clothed with flows 
You tricks can't hide behind expensive cars and clothes 
Old niggaz I expose like Luke does hoes in videos 
With classic material, imperial and rugged like 
Got mag, but my slugs a mic 
You fake like a smile, like a hug, I'm tight 
Skip ladies, this is rip a muthafucka night 
Oracle arouse, niggaz don't even run for cover right 
Downtown interracial lovers hold hands 
I breathe heavy like an old man, with a cold can of Old Style 
Hold a Stone Isle profile 
Mix between Malcolm X and Sef when I go wild 
Hold mics like a second nut until the second comin 
Hummin comin towards you with power like forest do 
Hip hop, you my bitch and like a Ford, I'm Explorin you 
So, wack niggaz be cool, with them, I stay cordial 
Flowin room temperature, cats is presumed miniature 
Like golf. Soft like Tiger Woods 
And real nigga angles I've stood with ways that's geometric 
Don't need to rob banks with dike broads to Set it 
I levitate to the occasion, lounge like a lyricist 
Rhyme wise, you a rest haven 
You sat by the door spooked like I was Wes Craven 
You need to do more deletin and less savin 
A praise in hell, raisin heaven 
Like the bill on my pager leavens 
What you should have known from day one 
You will on day seven
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