And, and, bass up the track a little bit
'Cause I, I'm here I want to hear that
Boom-bish, boom, you know what I'm sayin'?
Yeah, yeah, you know the business
Common Sense, Soul with the De La
Forget all them playas
We the rhyme-sayers, huh
And that's the business, hah
Gon' do it like this
Gettin' it hot like the Chicago streets

I speak divine of God theories, no need to be high
Always exhale the facts 'cause I don't inhale lie
Play the greater man's game, to bounce off my losses
So I can earn the acres (uh), the houses (yeah), the horses (huh)
Of course it's much greater than your Benz or your Lex
The engine to my comprehension is just too complex
Much too complex, effects be live like Das
Making moves down South to avoid the chaos
And never, flaunt the coin 'cause dime-getters be gazin'
They call me Luther Van, they say my style is so amazin' (ha)
I'm fazin' those who're supposed to have the last laughter
'Cause even when I'm gone I'm reappearin' in the after
I have to, send respects to real money makers
Do not connect us with those champagne sippin' money fakers
Taste the quarter pound with spice from Chi-town
Now what that prove? You're so full you can't even move (yeah, yeah)

'Cause I'm the D-to-the-O, the-V-to-the-E (uh)
And can't another brother cook these delicacies
Well I'm the P-L-U, the G-to-the-One
Walk around the planet earth, making money having fun (uh)
And I'm the C-to-the-O, double-M-O-N
I sit and think with a drink about how I'm gonna win
I'm the C-to-the-O, double-M-O-N
I sit and think with a drink

Do you want to be a emcee? Or do you want to serve
Do you want to be dope? Or do you want to deal it
Fabricated acrylic, I feel it, I'm the style molester
I do a show, get extra P's like the Large Professor
In fact I get more hoes than Tessa, peep game like a referee
In soul control of my destiny
In the best of three out of five
Whip anybody ass at NBA Live, rappers
Take a dive like Greg Lougainis with his-
Rather be in Bebe's alley than at the click with gators
Not a hater of the players, I'm more like a coach or an owner
I Used To Love H.E.R. but now I bone her
At one point in rhyme I thought I lost my erection
But then I got it back with the Resurrection, blessings
Upon rhymes old man who called him traitor (huh)
Big Com Stradamus, niggas' styles I predict

I'm the C-to-the-O, double-M-O-N
I sit and think with a drink about how I'm gonna win
And I'm the D-to-the-O, the-V-to-the-E (yeah)
And can't another brother cook these delicacies
Well, I'm the P-L-U, the G-to-the-One
Walk around the planet earth, making money having fun
Walk around the planet earth, making money having fun
Walk around the planet earth, making money having fun

I'm the most from the coast of the East then flee
Droppin more knowledge than liter on the New York pave'
It's me, Wonder Why, in the place to be
Certified, as superior emcee (ha)
While others explore to make it hardcore
I make it hard for wack MC's to even step inside the door
'Cause these kids is rhymey sometimey
And when we get to racing on the mic
They line up to see the lyrical killing with stained egos on the ceiling
My rhymes escalates like black death rates
Over music plates being played as the rule
Kids thinking stepping to the Soul, you're labeled fools
Who claims to drop jewels but for now you do the catching
I don't worry on what crew you run or what section of Earth
You reside, you're not even a man
So I don't deem it mandatory taking your pride
But I will 'cause my man said Soul for the life
You cried, "Keepin' it real", yet you should try keepin' it right
That's understanding microphone mathematics (yeah)
Which leaves the currency in temporary world status
And when one shows he posed threat to this one
This one will make that one into none
Simple equation, zero, you shouldn't play hero
If you can't stand strong like the island I'm from

Now, I'm the P-L-U, the G-to-the-One
Walk around the planet earth, making money having fun
Yeah, I'm the C-to-the-O, double-M-O-N
I sit and think with a drink about how I'm gonna win
And I'm the D-to-the-O, the-V-to-the-E
And can't another brother cook these delicacies
See can't another brother cook these delicacies
See can't another brother cook these delicacies

Ah, that's how, that's how I'm supposed to do my thing, huh?
Like triple it, alright
That's how we do it all the way from Strong Island to Chicago
The type of freestyler flow
Yeah, it's fluent
Ain't even a flow no more, ha

And to the Mighty Mos Def, yo, he nonstop
To my man Enola, yo, he's nonstop
And to my kin de Calhoun, you know he nonstop
Yo, that girl MP, yo, she's nonstop
And to that crew Camp Lo, you know they nonstop
And to that nigga Pop Life, yo, he's nonstop
And to my cousin Fudd Love, you know he nonstop
My brother Lucky and Pert, yo, they nonstop
And to my man Joe Buck, you know he nonstop
And my man Extra P, yo, he's nonstop
And my man Mike Divine, you know he nonstop
That kid called Baby Paul, yo, he's nonstop
And to the Jazzyfatnastees, yo, you're nonstop
And my peoples Beatminerz, man, they nonstop
And to my man Mr. Bug, you know you're nonstop
And, ayo, Litro, yo, he's nonstop
And to my Dean The Green, yo, you're nonstop
And to my man Prince Paul, yo, he's nonstop
And to that man Kid Capri, yo, you nonstop
And A Tribe Called Quest, man, they nonstop
And don't forget the Jungle Beez, yo, they nonstop

Tell you a little something about self (tell 'em, son)
I be a piece of the East coast, so give a toast to Plug Wonder
Why back in the day who soaked his words in ginger
So when I ran a phrase in June you didn't catch it 'til December
I'm a member of them kids from the inner city
Giving you kitties audible treats, you be aching for
Making more money than a pagan holiday
Not from the PJ's, yet I still got something to say

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): David J. Jolicoeur, Kelvin Mercer, Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Vincent L. Mason