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Artist: Sunz of Man 
Album:  Savior's Day 
Song:   S.O.M 
Typed by:

[Hell Razah] 
S.O.M, S.O.M, night-crawler 
We ain't new to this game, we ain't lame 
We don't care bout fame 
jus' relate to them niggas who be takin' ya chain 
A-Train on the range anybody could get it 
Hollow-tips in ya brain any bullet can fit it 
I.V.'s in ya veins in the back of the clinic 
When you hear the Sunz Of Man, we ain't comin' with gimmicks 
Been had bad bitches while we handle our business 
First time we came out, niggas took it religious 
Now we back on the scene while you lookin' suspicious 
like a brother from the hood can't be dealing with riches 
Seven digits in my bank account, holding my pivot 
Twenty-four 'bout to take rap over the limits 
Rollin' up in the whips with our windows tinted 
Get locked, finger-printed, and be out in a minute 
It's all over, quit writing, y'all careers just finished 
It's a rap for these cats sun, pass my Guiness

[Hook: Hell Razah (Prodical)]
Who them niggas that the streets love? 
Who them niggas that the ladies love? 
Who y'all can't fuck wit', sun? 
Who them niggas that they really feel? 
Who them niggas that they scared of? 
Who them niggas in them X5s? 
Who them niggas poppin bottles? 

We count cash like the lotto, the invincible three 
Fuck sentimental, it's the great Sunn-Zi 
Inspired by the late Gandhi, wire money 
niggas wanna see us fall, that shit is funny 
Rise to the top, do or die 'til I drop 
Twist lines greenity, brock, lines of chalk
2 On Da Road, S.O.M we blaze hot 
Wu-Tang Clan we expand never rot 
Nationwide, picture on the TV guide 
Show-time live, CD stings like beehive 
Love fat asses, tits with big thighs 
stay high, this play-er, ready for war 
Heavy machines, 6 series never leary 
Travel to the game, I stand like Mount Eerie 
Punch in ya face left ya eye teary 
Fuck thugs and the jewelry 
I'm the judge and the jury 


[Hell Razah] 
It started off as a dream 
Now happiness is all it could bring 
Comin' through hard times 
Now we into stacking our CREAMs 
Same niggas wanna roll used to laugh at our team 
and I don't trust this rap shit 
We keep a gat in our jeans 
When you sleep niggas creep, seen it happen to Kings 
Crack fiends livin' longer than my niggas who sling 
This ain't a magazine shorty, I live without greed 
I need a seven digit bank account, to take care of my seed 
Drop a jewel 'bout reality, twistin' my weave 
Seen families depart 'cause of envy and greed 
Now we celebrate, love and hate made us elevate 
Invest our money in the real estate, pop bottles by the case 
Grab a model by the waist, put a smile upon her face 
Ain't no doubt what we do sun, I gotta lot of faith 
Now it's time for a lot of cake 
We 'bout to eat, nahimsayin? 

[Hook X3] 

[Outro: Hell Razah (Prodical) *overlapping hook*]
S.O.M. motherfuckers, official
That's stamped on ya motherfuckin' forehead
Understand? It's time for the desert range
And watch who you about to see us put on this game
It's about to be on and poppin'
Sunz of Man is back in this motherfuckin' house
Who the fuck fuckin' wit' us?
Motherfuckin' 2 On Da Road, Ghetto Government
Motherfucker, what? We 'bout to show y'all
20-02 ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Your microchip'll get motherfuckin' rejected
That's real baby, (S.O.M.) it's real.. (S.O.M.)