A-Plus:
|
|
Hmmmmm
|
I could give a damn about you and your crew
|
everybody's frontin'
|
aint nobody bein' true to
|
the things they say
|
they say...
|
|
Tajai:
|
Man, I understand,
|
|
A-Plus: And,
|
|
Phesto:
|
I got a plan for improvement. . .
|
|
A-Plus:
|
But you gets the finger
|
and I bring a
|
attitude with me
|
cause brothas that I know be acting shifty
|
let me be me
|
and I'll let you be you
|
but why talk about me if it's not me that you're talkin' to
|
lets make it clear
|
you do not know, me
|
so skip 'How ya livin', 'How ya feel, bro G'
|
to me that's phony
|
asking if my shit's dropping
|
the kids stop when
|
they start to get they lips popped, and
|
they say I forgot 'em
|
but I aint seen 'em in four years,
|
|
Tajai:
|
You always had my number,
|
|
A-Plus: So step with your poor tears
|
and what about,
|
|
Opio: Plus is my man!
|
|
A0Plus: You need to stop it
|
screw the doers
|
of rumors
|
cause you nerds never profit.
|
|
[CHORUS:]
|
"Tell me who profits? You got beat, cause you like to gossip."
|
|
Phesto:
|
|
In school I never used to raise my hand in class
|
I always knew the teacher's hand
|
a passing grade to me
|
in the back, relax
|
cause they wasn't kickin' facts
|
in facts
|
I never learned nuttin',
|
|
Opio:
|
|
I can fool with the school system
|
they take facts and twist 'em
|
into knots, right up the block's
|
a spot
|
to get a 40
|
around the corner get craps,
|
|
Phesto:
|
|
Perhaps these is traps
|
to keep us tapped
|
saps, can buy gats
|
with flat-tipped bullet caps
|
in the locker room with no hassle
|
and assholes sell cracks in sacks
|
to class-foes & friends
|
cause the mass goes with the trend.
|
|
Opio:
|
|
My friend
|
the niggas makin' ends is livin' illegal
|
that's the way to go
|
I'm out to get dough.
|
|
Phesto:
|
|
Dough?
|
The education, to get you further
|
than murder and drugs with thugs
|
you're better off being a nerd.
|
|
Opio:
|
|
That's absurd
|
life don't mean nuthin' without phat pockets
|
that's the only way to get paid
|
you tell me who profits.
|
|
[CHORUS:]
|
|
"O&P: Tell me who profits?
|
O: I'll have G's,
|
P: But you'll get shot, kid (dick)!"
|
|
Tajai:
|
|
Huh!
|
ya gotta wonder
|
why niggas plunder, kill
|
have ya torn a sunder
|
cuz I'ma build
|
and fill
|
a glass pipe full of crack
|
and black men's pockets be phat
|
a little
|
lets whittle the way to the core now
|
ya packin' a Glock
|
mackin' the block
|
fight with the cops
|
well, who ya takin' the risk for?
|
A kingpin swingin'
|
with the president
|
greasin' 'em up & givin' 'em papes
|
for drugs in the States
|
have ya dodgin' niggas and caps
|
he's with George & Clarence
|
digging golf balls out of sand traps
|
he's never seen Frisco or Oakland
|
he got a glimpse of New York
|
when he went to see the opera ("ahhhhhh!"
|
He's seventy-six, getting senile
|
if we live past 2-4 we're due for a stay in the penile
|
so see now, we polish our Berettas
|
but there's no boats or caine fields nowhere in the ghetto
|
Yo...
|
|
[CHORUS:]
|
"Tajai: Tell me who profits?
|
DC got schemes, and we aint got spit...damn."
|
|
-----------------
|
Tell Me Who Profits
|
| Souls of Mischief |
