Holdin A Jar 2

My intelligence is money
 My skin is the streets of New York
 My arms and legs are its fucked up bridges
 The subways are the worms that come through my corpse
 Liberty, my bitch, fucking everyone
 They cut my two middle fingers down but my dick is still standing
 I walked into Nasa, my pocket full of envelopes
 And this chick swinging from my dick is into dope
 Like hi-jackin with no planes, it's harmless
 Way to shermed out to kick your fucking skull into your armpits
 All found a dime, what's the worst that could happen
 Cage got a knick for 8 millimeter action
 No family man, even my daughter earning chasing after me with a fucking handy cam
 Flippin while I'm holdin a jar, tell me if I'm going too far
 Turn around I left some coke in the bar
 Can't waste the range premise on this FBI-secretary with tits unless she's a menace
 See the liquid kids and streams of five on her
 This is the minds blotter, paper-savior dipped in high blotter
 And I'm more patriotic with the narcotic wrapped in the little flag in the back?
 I ain't tryna train the sane, I'm playing the game
 Like numbers scratched off a gun, they change your name
 Chase the past and get the violence to spread
 Got my arms in the dirt tryna silence the dead
 Even when you win you lose in the end
 So I take acid out of my back and use it again
 Excuse me brother, why tap your spinal cord?
 while open-mic emcees waste vinyl cords
 ? for skin, your flesh is born from it
 Empty the clip in your Toyota GS400
 If you're too old to hustle, put the gun down, uncle
 That's a nice vest with your head hangin from its last muscle
 Go cop the album, keep me alive
 And my functioning creative compartment will be downsized
 Beyond demise, it's high maintenence
 Looking for drugs with my hands crawling with agents
 Biological, with the hands on my nostril
 Can't get a vaccine with half the city in a hospital
 All these doom-leaders, and their spoon-feeders
 Can take the young, and let them lose leaders
 I ain't tryna train the sane, I'm playing the game
 Like numbers scratched off a gun - they change your name
 Chase the past and get the violence to spread
 Got my arms in the dirt tryna silence the dead