4th Avenue Jones Monumental Continental Lyrics

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Monumental Continental 4th Avenue Jones Song Lyrics

Monumental Continental Lyrics
by 4th Avenue Jones

Look here I canít afford to pause
And I do not sleep
Still buying all my drawz up at the Swap Meet
Iím making lots of doe
But funny how Iíma spend it
I donít need new clothes
Just property with tenants
And I donít know no jokes
Iím not about no play
Love for all my folks who poor in South L.A.
Iím from the slums of life
Didnít have a pot to put it
Thatís why I love this mic and how I got so good at
Bussiní all these flows and bussiní all these tracks
We goní get some gold get us some platinum plaques
(I heard that)
Money talk I stay fluent with
Busters canít ruin it
Causeí we straight doing it big

CHORUS
Big, huge, monumental
Stretched out four door Continental
Enough for me plus all my kin folk
Thatís how we rolliní thatís how we roll (repeat)

They love when I rhyme
My flow is divine I ainít the one taí
Get caught up in this jungle, sometimes it make me wonder
How Wall Street all eat good and my hood hungers
But we making it escaping these snakes like Anaconda
Big, huge through paying our dues
Now Avenue is taking over we ainít playing with fools
Or playing with crews
You dudes must have got it confused
Tena Jones paper chasing
Mama need some new shoes
We do it big

CHORUS

To the homie Mod, Tena
The lineage of Jones
Known for sown seeds, donít get it twisted we break bones
Uproot from homes
Take the cutest turn emí into trolls and gnomes
So far fetched, so far gone
The very same blood through them and Grits of course itís
And since we share a spirit make sense combine the forces
No time to sort our loses (they shootingí)
We rhythmically inclined cataclysmically in time to be defined the bosses

I got a Jones for a hit, so Iím swervingí the block
On 4th Ave causeí I know they got them bricks that rock
My boy MOD hit us off with some heat to speak on
The average M.C. need weed to be gone
Monumental life forms, who twice born
And write poems in clubs making thugs throw forearms
In the dirty, dirty
Mid south, Tennessee,
Nashville, Grits legendary spitters foísheez

CHORUS

We all just wanna be loved I guess
Yes, thatís why I stay until A.M. makingí hits that oughtí a be subbed
Oughtí a be dubbed one of the best
Iím ill, every D.J. who real should bang it
This one oughtí a be clubbed
Love when Iím rubbed the wrong way
So some offend me
Dismissed by many, my Christmas spent in the lab
Pen and pad while they sip Crisí and Henny
I write these life lessons and spit just whatís in me
Be big like Dikembe
Here to Japan is what my plan is
Put money right where my hand is
Ghetto brothas who poí can understand this
And folks survivingí off just bread and mayonnaise
I be wondering whoís uncle Sam is
Causeí in South Central L.A. we barely can live
I hand picked my squad only a few in it
Label tried screwing it
We survived doing it big

CHORUS


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