Letras:Styles P. The Ghost In The Machine. Soldiers' Song.

[Styles P]
Yo Poobs! Ghost..
Poobs turn me up my nigga
Time is money, Double R
D-Block, shit's real

Nigga it's the Ghost off the M.B.
I breathe off of liquor and weed and choose to be when the men sleep
I don't even pray with my eyes closed
Soulless screamin I know the demons, hide where the lies go
Try to fall back, off the lyrics with mysticism
Can't express myself, wild out and get shipped to prison
Got a lot of shit I could say
But it's kinda +Ludacris+ to make niggaz "get out the way"
Kinda selfish if I make niggaz get out and spray
Leave you helpless and the only thing you do is you pray, nigga
Shit is God-made, or man-made and machine-made
I don't want beef I want money, that's the green way
The pride overpower the brain
I won't die like a coward, muh'fucker I'm vain
I'm a gangsta in the car in the dirt and the chains
I've been hurt and in pain, and stood tall in this urban terrain
But a man must admit to his faults, I know mine
I'm the type that always wanna revolt (yeah)
If I can't kill a nigga then I want an assault (yeah)
Shit hard, just listen to the bars shit's makin ya {?}
Some niggaz shiver and listen, no lie
Close your eyes it's the bigger division
Life or death nowadays is a nigga's decision, here's your jewels
When you make yours, just make sure you make it on the move
Nigga

Yeah, Ghost, time is money
Shit's not a game
I ain't fuckin around
Yo Poobs we out {Mario?}