Linch Pins

[Intro]
Guilty
Uh

[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson]
Yo, I'm triumphant, I never got used to losing
Through action reduce your movements (Uh)
We talking paper? Enough said, who's greater
It just proves whose news later
Putting rappers in the newspaper
Read the fine print on my dime of penniless nonsense (Nonsense)
Rewind the content, idiots be not common (Shut up)
Time spent time trying to grind rent, I need that
Certified street rap, why you tweet that
I don't run with bums, no heart, just thumbs and guns
Couldn't walk in the slums I'm from
Thee hundred and thirteen, the murk team
You all some young Denzels the way you work the scene
Pretending I'm relevant without mention
Y'all can't fuck with Simpson
Y'all can't touch the linchpin
Y'all can't trust your henchmen
Send 'em back toe tags (Yeah)
We do him so bad
Just know that (What)
I'm all about my dope cash
I put a hole in [?]
[Survivor] specimens
They want to breed my saliva
Take out the driver
Trying to ride on me
Your gas low (Give me $5 on three)
Yeah

[Scratching: DJ Ragz]
Gas-gas low
Trying-trying-trying to ride on me
Gas low
Trying-trying-trying-trying-trying to ride on me
Your gas low

[Verse 2: Prince Po]
Breaker one nine, still on my handle
Queens interstate, international vandal
Cash iron bars and bang 'em into shape on this anvil
Raising high and look through this jungle, lyrical [?]
[?] Brutal Armstrong
[?] crucial moves to the grind
Super hungry like no dumbed-down or stepped on product, so have the money right
I look at self empowerment inside the paragraph
Settle scores, busting down doors like batter-rams
Snatch the cheddar, set the smash, travel lands like Madagasc'
Rifleman, enlightened [?]
Combing across horrid terrains and battlelands
Killer riots, protest, with uncharted tension
Poet guilt, God body sounding through the dark dimensions
Fuck all the talk
Walk, walk away, its loss prevention

[Scratching: DJ Ragz]
Down [?] down [?]
Busting down doors-doors-doors
[?]
Certified-certified-certified street-street rapper