Tekst:
Lone Catalysts Hip Hop

Pittsburgh to Pelan this type shit we be on When we on inside a cassette deck of your Neon Or in your Navigator whippin with the CD on Lone Catalysts,

[VERSE 1: J. Sands] If hip hop was a crime, I'd be a felon, sellin To all the conscious dope addicts, tragic, gotta have it Get no static, rhymes get

Yo All we wanna do is what we love You know Makin the music for the people But it seems every now and then In this game you run into obsticles That try

the rest be like 'gimme!' That's why I only roam with my son You take the l out of 'Lone', you'll be left with 'one' Catalyst, the sole controller and

s the band, makes the music with his hands (Who's the crew?) Yo, the Lone Catalysts Strategist fabulous, so the CD y'all niggas had to get (What you mean, hop

Lone Catalysts Yo I grab these microphones to live, son Pay the rent, put food on the table Got a roof over my head But I take it serious No joke [VERSE

the papes Cause once it circulates everyone will state That the Lone Catalysts be on a ill technique Aiyo, the Lone Catalysts be on a ill technique Aiyo, the Lone Catalysts