Student of The Game lyrics

by

Busta Rhymes


N.O.R.E
I feel like something special 'bout to happen
Queens n*gga but the meetings be up in Manhattan
Move the packs fast, Usain Bolt quick
We up to cook another one, bullsh*t
We should have the hood Olympics, a cook off
Let's see which coke is terrific and who is gifted
With the coffee pot, baking Soda, cookie jar
Let us separate the hustlers from the rookies ya'll
I knew enough Spanish not to get j*rked when I bought work
Plus plus, plus I let my gun off, beserk
Got my cousins in the pink houses, never had job n*ggas
They was into murdering, kidnaps and rob n*ggas
I was to rhyme as a hobby in my building lobby
f*ckin up ounces, take it back to quarters then
Wholesales with StarKim, even Sha Waterman
Fast forward, got locked for a shooting
Hit Spafford, back when Latin kings first recruitin
Locked in the zone, mind separate - guidance counselor
I went to school with a weapon, not for protection
Just to show it off, but I'm gon really use it
The power of the gun, it gave me strength, I would abuse it
I never ever ever thought I'd make it out in music
Started writing rhymes harder, and to vision the youth
Locked up, reading Donald Goines's books
Expanding my imagination, I got creative with the pen doe
Started writing rhymes loud the streets, that was symbol
My persona identified
Hood pride, logical, wrote about the blocks, streets and the obstacles
Man, this sh*t work when you think about it
I mean I still get money when you think about it
Rap, probably saved my life twice wit it
I'm still nice wit it, let's forget all the ice wit ice
Forget my accolades and other big things I did
I was a wild kid, I would've ran up in yo crib
Remember war report, CNN legacy
Hip-hop pedigree, rhymes is a felony
Student of the game, I take responsibility
Give me tranquility so n*ggas can't belittle me
I'm still doing what I do way past you
This album's home the heart, sorta feel like I have to
Prove sh*t, do the new sh*t
And the true school sh*t, wild with the deuces
Little guns for the little guns gala
Blade back, in a leather couch, harawana
Eye vision clearer, I love who I see in the mirror
I couldn't make that clearer
Try to compete with a real street n*gga
Doing street sh*t, you as soft as aloe vera hah?
(Cookin Soul Scratches)
Something special bout to happen
Queens n*gga, Queens n*gga
I'm still nice with it
Cook another one
Separate the hustlers from the rookies ya'll
CNN, CNN legacy
Hip-hop hop pedigree
Rhymes is a felony
Bill doin wuddup dude?
True school sh*t, real street n*ggas
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