We Not Playing

[Verse 1: Black Thought]
Hey yo, kickin' wicked rhymes like a fortune teller
95' I made the world illadel'
Hey yo, kickin' wicked rhymes like a fortune teller
95' I made the world illadel'

Word up, Money Making Jam Boys --Jam Boy Magic, that's what's knockin'
You know what I'm sayin'

Hey yo, kickin' wicked rhymes like a fortune teller
95' I made the world illadelph
Yo, hella jawns up on my top
The Money Making Jam Boys, when it's gon' drop
Girls screaming that's them, his watch look like Big Ben
And when I rocks the mic I get raw
Raw like a nigga that's sick and ticked off
Two-fifteen get the cream, got a thing for hustlin'
Guns get to bussin', cat's ain't sayin' nothin'
Bet you was another Black Inc. production
Roll a huff, and puff and blow the house down
The champion sound is in your town
Get down or get smoked, and this I quote
To me, the game lookin' funny as an inside joke
You could believe I'mma go directly at ya'll throat
Until my names on the walk of fame like Bob Hope
Baby doll, bust a sketch don't forget
We rolled on the set, you all broke your neck
Them girls hissin' at me like Maxell cassettes
You trying to come at the jam, don't hold your breath
Unless, I, take you, to the motel
You, take me, to the hotel
Coming at ya'll like a check in the mail
I'm not an only child, got a brother in jail
It's Philly, P-A, yo, we not for the play, yo
You can't run or hide, we be on your trail
Son, you know my squad got it all for sale
Motherfucker, you know what I'm saying

[Hook]
Money making jam boys, bitch, they not playin'
Money making jam boys, bitch, they not playin'
Money making jam boys, bitch, they not playin'
Money making jam boys, bitch, they not playin'

[Verse 2: Truck North]
Truck North, my lines express awareness
And while ya'll talk the scared shit
You fear bitch, I'm at the top of the pile
But no goma is sweatin' my style
Cause' I'm building, next level, more trouble
The Money Making Jam Boys go hard for the yards, Earl Campbell
And I must prevail
North side too fresh to be stale
I stay ill beyond 10,000
So if you see me in the party I'm housing
Then I'm recruiting all the jam girls
They drip for me like jheri curls
So I got to keep a towel in the back
When it rains and it pours, umbrellas and all that, shit
I am an orator, green leaf connoisseur
How could a team be more raw than this four
They want more kid north, got enough for four broads
Wake a nigga up, thinking he can beat me
I got a song from the hymns to the [creceeds?]
You walk around with no protection
And get mad cause the Jam Boys flexin'
They couldn't pass inspection
Because where I'm from you'll need your weapon
I'm like a beamer with fuel injection
Concave, convex full perception
Mean streets cause sassy diaeresis
And all I got is little bad bitches sweatin' us
You know what I'm sayin'

[Hook]

[Verse 3: P.O.R.N.]
They say life ain't shit but pimps and tricks
And everybody gets fucked cause the game is fixed
Some dance with the devil, others dance for tips
Rather die from a bullet than a nasty bid
Rather live on the run, than [?] for crumbs
Rather see if I can swim in a bottle of rum
You can't feel a bullet if you're already numb
Bite a shell before I bite my tongue
I'm built for the guild and the filth dope white as the milk
In the dirty diaper bag, in the room in the Hil'
I'm made for the blade, that's made in the cage
That's the stash in your ass when the C.O. raid?]
In the nighttime, [alute lust to war?]
Won't break fast, but down to break the law
In love with a [s?] I can't seem to ignore
Baby, I ain't sure - Money Making Jam Boys

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Dice Raw]
Yo, I see all you cornballs spitting all them stale raps
And me still sounding like a hellcat
See you at the mall wylin' on the sale rack
Then at the register crying over sales tax
Saw your old girl, told me how she fell back
And all she want to know is where the Jam Boys at
But she don't know raw who gets so raw
A-yo, I break into her minds with a crowbar
But all I really need is a toothpick
Because I'm too slick, manipulate too quick
Yo, I'm a rude boy spitting all that rude shit
My cause like Easy-E, you know, ruthless
I'm back at it, yeah, about to snatch it
Mister automatic, mister-mister cinematic
I'm mister old school, DJ mister magic
Let a hundred shots rip, no one will miss you bastards
But I'mma turn niggas into addicts
Cause I know that ya'll smoking that babbot
And ya'll broke, and ya'll get more for your buck
You know your girl let me throw dollar bills in her butt
She a slut, I told you not to mess with that chick at draws-drop
Quick for any nigga with [t...?] my life a movie
Where I'm freestyling a script, Denzel Washington or Forest Whitaker, I'm Will Smith

[Hook]