Money Don't Own Me Lyrics - Digi Snacks - Rza

My woman and my money don't own me 

I've got to keep holdin my own 

Heaven, heaven 

The dangerous dynamite dosage, mind full of explosives 

Digital brain is the closest to Moses 

Civilizin came, the flame inside the holster 

Revitalize the game, the name's on the poster 

The mask with no cape, the flash'll crush grapes 

The dancer on the lap, the ass with no face 

It's shaped like an ace, say your grace before you taste it 

Haste makes waste, slow down or you may waste it 

The bunny in the car look like an Indian squall 

The honey's in the jar, the money's in the bra 

It's funny ha ha ha, how dummies, ha ha ha 

Think 'cause we call 'em sunny they can be a star 

I implement the instrument, disintegrate the 10 percent 

You entered the square but you don't know where the circle went 

You ain't worth the cent, you cursed, I birthed the Prince 

Drenched the baby from creators that the nurses sent 

You can't still convent, don't have seven cents 

Grave the raven, my birds are heaven sent 

Where the brethren went? Where the Reverend went? 

I told you these words are heaven sent 

My woman and my money don't own me 

I've got to keep holdin my own 

It's time to show you how them rugged MC's rock 

If that's steel you see, it's that steel I pop 

If that Benz I want, it's that Benz I got 

Who rock them white tees first, get a West Cost props 

Can't nobody do it better than the West Coast veteran 

Three six letterman, Monk's the name 

Black Knights the gang, I'll ignite the flames 

Strike my hood up on the wall and cross out your name 

With a K on the end of it, that won't be the end of it 

'Til them guns is drawn and you standin on the end of it 

Poof be gone, I'ma write that wrong 

I'm the shit all by myself, nobody writes my song 

Peep my technique, strictly gangsta classics 

Gun talk nigga, muthafuck theatrics 

My flow is matchless, ain't no way you could surpass this 

Level I'm on, better go home and try to practice 

Why yes, am I next to impress 

D T S, bless the best, no cess 

Stress from guess to gold press 

The quest to protest, we head the Pro-Keds 

But this is the new improved shit 

'08 from the AMG, '92, bitch 

My woman and my money don't own me 

I've got to keep holdin my own 

Keep holdin, keep holdin 

Keep holdin, keep holdin, no