My Piano - Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Hi-Tek

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 niggas 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 cuz 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

Hi-Tek…

They wonder why I play my piano

You can’t deny it if it’s in you

Get that money, that monero

Wait any longer, it will stress you

Aiyo, flying through to Aspen in Claiborne glasses

Burning a Churchill, a bad bitch dumping the ashes

It’s Bailey’s on ice with big straws

Mongoloid rocks is gleaming while the twin Glocks stuffed in 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

Cheap bags of smoke, told y’all don’t fuck with Tone Loc

It’s a Staten Island thing, you could ask Alabin

We wilding without that guap we become very violent

Until then, I play the piano

Luciano on the bass, Mariano on the block with the saves

I’mma grind 'til my seeds is grey

Still young when I’m eighty, poppin Cialis and fuck all day (Huh)

Got the hood jumping, Champion sweats

Nike Flight suit, boots on, 'bout to put it in in the 'jects

Streets love killas, brothers with swords

Suede front, sprayed pumps, lobbies where the losses is bought

New shotties for the youngsters

Good 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

See my gunsmiths

We carry two four-five, trooper tight

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 coverage you could hear

Mobster status, yeah, year of the great ones, a griz bear

Get 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, beat em down, get the step up…