4th Avenue Jones Monumental Continental Lyrics

Monumental Continental Lyrics

Look here I can’t afford to pause

And I do not sleep

Still buying all my drawz up at the Swap Meet

I’m making lots of doe

But funny how I’ma spend it

I don’t need new clothes

Just property with tenants

And I don’t know no jokes

I’m not about no play

Love for all my folks who poor in South L.A.

I’m from the slums of life

Didn’t have a pot to put it

That’s why I love this mic and how I got so good at

Bussin’ all these flows and bussin’ all these tracks

We gon’ get some gold get us some platinum plaques

(I heard that)

Money talk I stay fluent with

Busters can’t ruin it

Cause’ we straight doing it big



(Chorus:)

Big, huge, monumental

Stretched out four door Continental

Enough for me plus all my kin folk

That’s how we rollin’ that’s how we roll (repeat)



They love when I rhyme

My flow is divine I ain’t the one ta’

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 ain’t 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, don’t get it twisted we break bones

Uproot from homes

Take the cutest turn em’ into trolls and gnomes

So far fetched, so far gone

The very same blood through them and Grits of course it’s

And since we share a spirit make sense combine the forces

No time to sort our loses (they shooting’)

We rhythmically inclined cataclysmically in time to be defined the bosses



I got a Jones for a hit, so I’m swerving’ the block

On 4th Ave cause’ 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 fo’sheez



(Chorus)



We all just wanna be loved I guess

Yes, that’s why I stay until A.M. making’ hits that ought’
a be subbed

Ought’ a be dubbed one of the best

I’m ill, every D.J. who real should bang it

This one ought’ a be clubbed

Love when I’m rubbed the wrong way

So some offend me

Dismissed by many, my Christmas spent in the lab

Pen and pad while they sip Cris’ and Henny

I write these life lessons and spit just what’s in me

Be big like Dikembe

Here to Japan is what my plan is

Put money right where my hand is

Ghetto brothas who po’ can understand this

And folks surviving’ off just bread and mayonnaise

I be wondering who’s uncle Sam is

Cause’ 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)