Lyrics Souls of Mischief

Souls of Mischief

Tell Me Who Profits

Hmmmmm

I could give a damn about you and your crew

everybody's frontin'

ain't nobody bein' true to

the things they say

they say...

Tajai:

Man, I understand,

A-Plus: And,

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 ain't seen 'em in four years,

Tajai:

You always had my number,

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.

"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.

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.

"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

'cause 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...

"Tajai: Tell me who profits?

DC got schemes, and we ain't got spit...damn."