They say Hip Hop is dead, and commercialism killed it / Huh? Hip Hop lives... commercialism built it
I'm filthy rich wit the wisdom, given to me / I don't purchase pieces and pendants, I glitter for free
Since back in 93 when Wu Tang was burnin cans / You could find me, grimy, walkin thru Murder Land
Work I was turnin in, scribblin my notes down / Livin where the furnace is, slitherin wit coke hounds
Differences I know now, black and white / Green Money seems funny in the after-life
You faggots might, believe that you live for the moment / But time flies, and I will get it when I want it
