Ambitions Of Musicians Lyrics & Chords By Charles Hamilton

Live today like tomorrow homie just earn money
hip-pop aint die man it just turned 20
ambitions of musicians of Tholonius Monk
mixed with a lil punk for the homies to bump
I am not a lil punk for the homies to jump
scarface smokin blunts, while im holdin the pump
so many hoes know me, I know what they want
but I'm bobby at night, so I choke her for fun
better yet, spreewell when I'm chokin' the coach
you know, that the flow is dope, so don't even front
you better say that I'm the truth, when I open my mouth
I'm a ghost, that's why I got so many styles
nigga pac won't leave me alone, he keep hauntin' me, tauntin' me, I ask him what the hell you want from me?
he said "nothin I just need some new company, these other rappers still soundin' kind of dumb to me"
so don't be scared if ever you think I grab at ya, I know it's creepy so what "I AIN'T MAD AT YA"
this is written but off the top I'm the mad hatter, a bad boy, no wonder I see the mad rappers
all I gotta do is spray 'em with mase, they just pimples, I'm noxema, they won't stay in my face
they got a lot of opinions they wont say to my face
I treat 'em like Bush do Mexicans, stay in your place
I'm pink so why would I stay in a race
but I black and these niggas can't stay in the race
I'm a beast, catch me bathin' with apes, ridin' with lions, why are you lyin' playa you gay
if you try to throw me a curve im makin' it straight, shorty try to throw me her curves man I stay gettin' laid
I'm a cute pink carpet, I stay in her place
and graffiti with the semen when I spray in her face
using racial terms, I'm the ace of the spades, loon of the coons, more money for the porch monkeys
I stack figures, translation, I'm dat nigga, rap sicka then all of you rap niggas
I pop alot of shit that much is obvious, I'm only nice with the wrappin' 'cause I got a gift
and ya pockets need axe it aint got a scent, I'm pretty set in my ways so why I gotta dip
you'll lukewarm and I am your father prick, no catholic priest, get off your fathers dick
you pussies just love givin' alot of lip, well I'm abstinant, that's why you aint gotta hit
I aint stupid, I paint lucid pictures, I make moves like that Frank Lucas nigga
shoulda been in the march on Washington, but I'm a king, so march on Washington
this is my year, from March on watch the kid, this that real chronic. go head you can spark it, get lit,
this track is the looseleaf I was born to rip, I make it rain like Storm in a porno flick
made her leave her ex-man and get it on with him, call Micheal Buffer motherfucker get it on with him
no homo, but you niggas climbing Brokeback mountain
I'm so crack, you sold that, I hope that found 'em
this is the product my nigga no back countin'
you aint speakin' English, you the pope, that's wildin'
you pop e and think you leadin' the faith, well I'm a can of Red-Bull, I can keep 'em awake
I invest time in music, I guess I need more money, 'til then November 10th's the new 420,
so roll up and get a hit of the piff, or buy yourself a Nixon lollipop and lick on a dick, bitch,
and I fucked up and I'm keepin' it
ONE