The Hand That Leads You - Percee P

Y’all admire lames and liars that need to retire, mane

Perce is phat, when I burst your raps

Underground and commercial cats

Know where my turf is at: BX!

must not be knowin' I’m blowin' minds

Got me holdin' concealed weapons, fuckin' live

Brothers bust, leave mothers crushed and lovers blushed

Try to smother us, while others just shuck and jive

Get cash to spit without askin'

Chicks be passionately flashin' tits

Every ho in the place be knowin' the face

Blow at an uncontrollable place

When the show put my dough in the case

Vicinity trifeless, make thugs with identity crisis

Enter de ciphers and many men’ll be lifeless

Nothin' you roast ill, better hope real cats don’t recognize

You’re no-frills, talkin' money and dope deals and broke still

Like a thug in the street, muggers discreetly huggin' the freaks

Be lovin' the meat, the lyrical cat with the ruggeder beats

Tracks are raw, still cats ignore the fact I’m more

Better than the ones you askin' for on racks in stores

Give fat checks, this rap vet’s verbal gats let off

Rounds then clap sets, leavin' tracks wet

MCs are rote, he’s the most famous Eastern coast

Spittin' like I’m squeezin' toast and don’t leave the post

This here’s proper, don’t dare knock my hustle, man

If you just a damn sharecropper and near copper

The best of stars can’t mess with bars like the rest of y’all

They get left in tar like woolly mammoth brains in

Rhymes are dope, better cop now, my hip hop sound

Could get me locked down like I got found with lines of coke

Don’t spend hours to send power-ful lines to bring the place down and have your

men shower the skies like twin towers