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作词 : Ivey, Artis L Jr |
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作曲 : Ivey/J. Austin/D. Aldridge/G. Vanelli/A. Ivey/Aldridge/Austin |
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My Soul （Amended LP Version）-Coolio |
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Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul （My soul my soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul |
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My soul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul |
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You can try to throw salt but I keep my game face on |
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And the only thing on your mind is stalkin'more digits than a telephone |
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Me and thirty-nine theives jumpin'out of white Hummer |
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From Compton （Wooh-wooh-wooh）while your crew get dumb and dumber |
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Grew up straight out of low cash like CB fo' |
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Now I got dough and you got one night stands like gangsta yo |
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See on the low it's all gravy |
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But the threat of this new world order is about to drive me crazy |
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And all you want is the Lex and gold Visa |
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Bomb singles and stackin'your chips like Pringles |
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While my rhymes jack for platinum plaques |
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Quicker than one time Jack Black's |
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I twist sacks and sip yac |
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Plus the Invisible Man got my back like a spine |
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So why you all up in mine |
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Keep the money and the fame cause all I really wanna hold |
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Is my artistic flavor and control of my soul |
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Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul （My soul my soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul |
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My soul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul |
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Ain't no tellin |
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Most women are still waitin'and sellin' |
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Most of my homies is ex-felons （Convicts） |
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In two decades rap went from Planet Rock |
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To crack rock |
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Now everybody got a glock |
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And it don't stop |
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Till another brother drop |
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That's why I poured out a little drink for the homie Pac （Rest In Peace） |
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What's a thin line between love and hate |
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A million dollars in the bank and you still can't escape |
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It's a small world after all you're clausterphobic you can't breathe |
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So store your ball like Christopher Reeve |
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It's the hater in you that makes you criticize me |
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Cause if you handled your business then yo ***would see |
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Nineteen-ninety-seven is still crackin' |
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I'ma get the ladies out their seat like this was a car jackin' |
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They say the game is to be sold not told |
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You can keep your bankroll I want control of my soul |
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Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul （My soul my soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul |
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My soul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul （My soul） |
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My soul-oul-oul |
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My jaws flip across sixteen bars like Dominique Dawes |
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But without no flaws never broke a m c law |
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See I was servin'wack rappers at the school |
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When Bruce Lee was scrappin'with Kareem Abdul |
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You got into triple beams and guns you ain't gon shoot |
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I seen a million rappers in the same Versace suit |
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Or the same pair of locs that's probably why you're broke |
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And your backstage and your ghetto p***got revoked |
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Scrappin'or rappin'what you want to happen |
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If I ever come up short you the first one I'm jackin' |
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It's theives in the area like aircraft carrier's |
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We're launchin'F-15's |
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And Anti-Wack Maf Machines |
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Michropone sittin'on my vocal chord |
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Sendin'busta's to the crossroads like Thuggish Ruggish Bone |
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It's the C-O-O-L-I-O well I wont fold |
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When I'm controllin'my soul |