Show Lyrics

4th Avenue Jones - Monumental
(from the album HipRockSoul)
© copyright 2004

Look here, I can't afford to pause / and I do not sleep / still buyin' all my draws up at the Swap Meet / I'm makin' 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 that's 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 doin' it / BIG!!!

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 (2X)

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 makin' it escapin' these snakes like Anaconda / Big. Huge. / through payin' our dues/ Now Avenue is takin' over we ain't playin' with fools/ or playin' with crews / you dudes must have got it confused / Tena Jones paper chasin' Mama need some new shoes/ We do it BIG!


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 shootin') / we rhythmically inclined / cataclysmically in time to be defined the bosses

I got a Jones for a hit / so I'm swervin' 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 makin' thugs throw forearms / in the dirty, dirty / mid south, Tennessee, Nashville / Grits legendary spitters fo'sheez


We all just wanna be loved I guess / yes, that's why I stay until A.M. / makin' hits that oughtta be subbed / oughtta be dubbed one of the best / I'm ill / every D.J. who real should bang it / this one oughtta 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 survivin' off just bread and mayonnaise / I be wonderin' 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 screwin' it / we survived doin' it, BIG!!!