energy for the street Lyrics are smooth for maximum effect Jump track patterns on cassette Time-time snare had bass and cymbal Like that of a cat on
And if you know this, you won't skip fame But you will gain wisdom And wisdom gains power Don't let your life go sour over power Hustlin's like a drug
the same things Dream the same dreams Play the same games We started out in the same place Believe it or not we got the same names Everything happens
the Mister X to the Z Don't peak, L.A., why test without vest-es stop lead projectile, Apocalypse Now Love Allah not new car, faggot, superstar type of cat
no way I'mma change These bustas knowing my name But ain't no way they can hang Soy veterano for life With a mexicano like Ike In Jam Down commision they got my name
's eighty-five, blind, deaf and dumb Run and get your gun, I come in the name of Allah To my people, the Inglewood family swine, power refined You can
fuck with the flow I'm tryin' to keep all of my motherfuckin' ducks in a row I gotta see a man 'bout a dog and sell him a cat If you don't know, then
old horror-movie, that I can't remember the name of. But it was about a guy who had his memories shared with those of a cat. He got away from the scientist
Garden of the Gods ©2000 Catsongs Productions Can you see into my cat's eyes Well I'll tell you the most vicious lies And I'll take your breath away
night tip Master ace with a tight grip Tight enough to hold the crowd, control the loud People, they gather to hear a rather proud Brother, originator of the third power
rat from the sewer I eat you like a meal, pass you like maneuer Put you in the garden where my flower grows Then where's your power? tell me where your power
you) (Fresh) To justify my thug My thug, my thug for you (Hoping, praying for you, for you) (Fresh) Now if you shoot my dog, I'ma kill your cat Just
face No black mask no silencers On the burners everybody hear da get blast Bodies found chopped up in black bags inside incinerators I got power like generators Slugs wit names
than Scarface so call me Al Pacino Wishing like Skeeto to meet the Beatles Eating some frito's a cool cat daddy like Chester Cheeto Chanting like the Santo Domingo Met a girl named
lick chopped chicken, who dares lick a shot at pigeons? why I oughta (Vast get em!) he surfs city circuits for the power and the glory to the cowards
, but still complete Providing musical energy for the street Lyrics are smooth for maximum effect Jump track patterns on cassette Time snare had bass and cymbal Like that of a cat
and I bring the whole candy shop. My momma always told me not to talk to strangers. Or the Jonas Brothers because, They attract more eight year olds than the Power
drugs, slugs, and causalities, that's police mentality Tell me, how would you handle this They pulled out they sticks, I pulled out my dick Trigonom packin' much power