More or Less lyrics

by

Kanye West


[Intro: Foxy Brown & Shyne]
Gyeah
Gyeah, walk with me
Gyeah, It's like New York's been soft
Ever since my n*gga Shyne been sittin' in prison
Yeah

[Verse 1: Shyne]
Check it, sick things, sick rings, this sh*t is sickening
Sick chains sick aim, 5th bang 5th frame
Bail money lawyers actin' funny when I come through
Hit 'em with a bundle on the humble
Couple notes, seen Boy George with a Rolls
sh*t, I want one too
What the f*ck I'm gon' do
But get it if it's there to be gotten 'til I'm dried and rotten
And I'm rockin' sideways muthaf*cka crime pays
I need it, I'll get it, I got it, I'll chop it, I'll double the profit
And bubble the pockets, I'm living to die
n*ggas talk fly 'til I walk by and pop somethin'
Muthaf*ckas forgot somethin', I'm not frontin'
This ain't rap, music this ain't that
You f*ck around I'll have you sleepin' where the saints at
Sincerely yours Shyne muthaf*ckin' Po
b*tch get yo' bags hit the muthaf*ckin' do'
[Chorus: Shyne]
May the angels walk with me, more or less
Big things, big rims n*gga, more or less
f*ckin' big stars in big cars, more or less
I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less

[Verse 2: Shyne]
A G is a G, a ki is a ki, a snitch is a fish (as in kilo)
With no fins that can't swim when I dump him in the river
Charcoal gray R, 12 cylinders bulletproof sentences
Trial day tentative
I sound like who? ya'll sound like trash
Get off my di*k and pass my cash
They don't do it cause I rap about it
I rap about it cause they do it
My music's the conduit to a ticket, I live it
b*tch n*gga, I cook it and pitch it
Wipe the prints up off the sh*t and ditch it, uh
Hip-Hop ain't responsible for violence in America
America's responsible for violence America
Back to the flow nose full of blow
Rolls full of hoes, leave a n*gga clothes full of holes
The schools didn't want me so the drug dealers taught me
Simple math, step on it twice and bring it back
Get 4 times what you paid, divide the labor costs
And still come away with enough to play
And I see the same sh*t in n*ggas younger than me
Runnin' the streets lookin for somethin' to eat
[Chorus: Shyne]
May the angels walk with me, more or less
Big things, big rims n*gga, more or less
f*ckin' big stars in big cars, more or less
I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less

[Verse 3: Shyne]
Ole boy betta get down better run for cover
When I spit rounds ah you in some sh*t now
Get found slit down to the white meat
I'm from Brooklyn, Vietnam n*gga, I like beef
But being a bird in the street, double plight
Livin' a troubled life, father was a j*rk
Moms had to work, papi had the works
So I did what any real n*gga would do
Got in front the stove, now I got this sh*t sold
f*ck you punk n*ggas wit' yo' punk cash
Let the pump blast, put yo punk ass in the trunk fast
The f*ck y'all thought
I bury n*ggas in walls, I'mma trill muthaf*cka after all
Point blank shootin n*ggas point blank all the way to the bank
Rip yo face off then I take off
The difference between me and them, you won't be seein' them
No more, n*gga, secrets of war

[Chorus: Shyne]
May the angels walk with me, more or less
Big things, big rims n*gga, more or less
f*ckin' big stars in big cars, more or less
I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or lesse
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