*Violins and pianos are heard, tapping, and a conductor clearing his 
throat to signal that he is ready* 
Chorus: 
Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul (My soul, my soul) 
My soul-oul-oul 
My soul-oul-oul (My soul) 
Soul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul-oul (My soul) 
My soul-oul-oul (My soul) 
My soul-oul-oul 

Verse 1: 
You can try to throw salt, but I keep my game face on 
And the only thing on your mind is stalkin' more digits than a telephone 
Me and thirty-nine theives jumpin' out of white Hummer 
From Compton (Wooh-wooh-wooh), while your crew get dumb and dumber 
Grew up straight out of low cash like CB fo' 
Now I got dough and you got one night stands like gangsta, yo 
See on the low it's all gravy 
But the threat of this new world order is about to drive me crazy 
And all you want is the Lex and gold Visa 
Bomb singles and stackin' your chips like Pringles 
While my rhymes jack for platinum plaques 
Quicker than one time Jack Black's 
I twist sacks and sip yac 
Plus, the Invisible Man got my back like a spine 
So, why you all up in mine? 
Keep the money and the fame cause all I really wanna hold 
Is my artistic flavor and control of my soul 

Chorus 

Verse 2: 
Ain't no tellin 
Most women are still waitin' and sellin' 
Most of my homies is ex-felons (Convicts) 
In two decades, rap went from Planet Rock 
To crack rock 
Now, everybody got a glock 
And it don't stop 
Till another brother drop 
That's why I poured out a little drink for the homie Pac (Rest In Peace) 
What's a thin line between love and hate? 
A million dollars in the bank and you still can't escape 
It's a small world, after all, you're clausterphobic, you can't breathe 
So, store your ball like Christopher Reeve 
It's the hater in you that makes you criticize me 
Cause if you handled your business then yo ass would see 
Nineteen-ninety-seven is still crackin' 
I'ma get the ladies out their seat like this was a car jackin' 
They say the game is to be sold, not told 
You can keep your bankroll, I want control of my soul 

Chorus 

Verse 3: 
My jaws flip across sixteen bars like Dominique Dawes 
But without no flaws, never broke a m.c. law 
See, I was servin' wack rappers at the school 
When Bruce Lee was scrappin' with Kareem Abdul 
You got into triple beams and guns you ain't gon shoot 
I seen a million rappers in the same Versace suit 
Or, the same pair of locs, that's probably why you're broke 
And your backstage and your ghetto pass got revoked 
Scrappin' or rappin' what you want to happen? 
If I ever come up short you the first one I'm jackin' 
It's theives in the area like aircraft carrier's 
We're launchin' F-15's 
And Anti-Wack Maf Machines 
Michropone, sittin' on my vocal chord 
Sendin' busta's to the crossroads like Thuggish Ruggish Bone 
It's the C-O-O-L-I-O, well I, wont fold 
When I'm controllin' my soul 

Chorus: Repeat 1 1/2 times