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Album: Track 4 on Hi-Teknology³: Underground
Rate: My Piano gets avg. rating 5.3 out of 10 based on 3 ratings. Rate the song now!!!
(Aiyo, Hi-Tek, play that tune for me)
Yeah, yo, they wonder why I play my piano
Why I stay low-key, why I'm always in the studio
Heh, that's what I do, you playing with the game
I play my piano... yeah
Is it the love for the money or the love for the game?
Is it the love from the honies or the love for the chains?
Is it because, most of these little niggaz is wack?
Or because the game is yelling "Bring that real shit back"?
Is it because of the limelight I'm just trying to be famous?
Is it cause the game dying and I'm just trying to save it?
Maybe I'm just successful, so much I won't be cool with 'em
Maybe it's because I'm crazy, just in love with my music
They wonder why I play my piano
You can't deny it if it's in you
Get that money, that moñero
Wait any longer, it will stress you
Aiyo, flying threw the Aspens in Claiborne glasses
Burning a Churchhill, a bad bitch dumping the acid
It's Bailey's on ice with big straws
Moneray boxers gleaming while the twin gloss stuck to my drawers
Jadakiss baldy with chicks on me, bricks on me
French/German murder, Swiss Army, you can never snitch on me
I'm too strong, I'm spinning my web, across town
In rough places and black alleys, getting that bread
If I go broke I'll sell slabs of soap
Beach bags of smoke, told y'all I don't fuck with Tone Loc
This is a Staten Island thing, you could ask Saulhadin
We wilding without Deck while we become very violent
Until then, I play the piano
Luciano on the base, Mariano on the block with the sage
I'm a grind 'til my seeds is grey
Still young when I'm eighty, pop in Cialis and fuck all day (Huh)
Got the hood jumping, Champion sweats
Nike Flight suit, boots on, 'bout to put in and then jet
Streets love killas, brothers with swords
Suede front, spraying pumps, lobbies where the losses is brought
New shotties for the youngsters
Got trees, sit in the weeds, white T's on looking for Munsters
Everybody punched in, it's lunchtime
Look at the line, yo I moulded this design
We carry two four-fives, trooper tired
But got that gun that shoot stupid fire
Bagging up work, I'm back on the Earth
About to make something happen fast, put a stack in my shirt
Yo, all the covers you could hear
Monster status, yeah, year of the great ones, a griz bear
Make mines, you know a nigga rip lines
It's part of the character, but other than that yo I'm on bitch time
Yeah, jump up, hang down, nigga, Staten...
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