Letra de 'Platinum Plus' de Platinum Souls

Hook:

One million, two million, three million souls
Four million, five million, six million souls
Seven million, eight million souls, nine million souls
Ten we gotta win em
Let's get, let's go

Verse 1:

Want some bonafide answers to those questions you got?
Wanna know the cure to AIDS, and why your homie got shot?
Wanna know why you sin, and how you gon' stop?
Why they gotta shake dance?
Why yo' block still hot?
Why they take what you got, insteada' getting they own?
Little girls grow up fast, and they act so grown?
Little boys having boys from the seeds they sown
Why they blowin' up spots, when the madness gon' stop?
Well… we got the answers for the strip-tease dancers
For the 10 years olds waiting for the cures to the cancers
It's in The Good Book, come on, get a good look
Isaiah 53:5, for us stripes He took
So you're healed now, injection you can feel now
Flow it through your system, breath out- breath in now
It's The Medicine, no Tylenol, Excedrin
The Word got the cure y'all, ain't nothing better than
Real hip-hop, solid on the Rock
Spittin' truth to the youth, J.C non-stop
We lace the kick and the bass something sweet, wanna taste?
The Medicine, The Veteran
No time to waste, let Him in

Hook (repeat)

Verse 2:

Ric FLO got flow
Get it, I spit clean
Lyrically call me your Mr. Listerine
30-something now, been spitting since 16
Subtract 3 from that, my raps were on the scene.
Industry broken it needs fixing
Wrong song playing time for re-mixing
Scr scr scratching the slackness
With the wack vaccine
Christ is the finish line, and I'm on that track team
I'm tired of these rappers and their wack lyrical acting
5'8" I run through still doing the Shaq thing.
You hear the crowd reacting?
Re-running things like millennium what's happening.
Some a y'all amazed by this Jesus craze
Because we Fonzerelli cool, having happy days
HEY HEY HEY
I'm phat when I spit
Without a mush mouth, I bust out a hit when I get- Funky
Because it got's to be a James Brown, Parliament, Bush Cassidy
raise the dead, head banger.
Off the hanger, off the charts, off the chain,
Off the hook, off the block, off the brain.
Some a y'all sayin- "he ain't freestylin' this thing."
Why not, my flow comes straight from the King
Blaooww
Gospel- far from soft
PS in the lions dens popping the top off
For the

Hook (repeat)