“More or Less”

Posted on April 26, 2012

(A #KZHS Interactive Hip-Hop Experience)


“More or Less”

Lyrics by KZ

Music: The Shyne “More or Less” instrumental

[Click for music; lyrics begin at 0:03]


(Verse 1)

More or less than a million

Only fair way to judge it.

Ramen noodle budget

And tap water won’t cut it

Movie screens and drug scenes

Sit somewhere in between

Rebellious teen

Father lived his life crack fiend

Put hands on ten grand

My original plan

Just a young man

Who didn’t really fully understand

East Akron’s silent poverty

Dying to hit the lottery

They watched me and mocked me

Never could afford property

Got set up properly

Took five years to market me

The royalty art novelties

And blog tell the story

Of a man forgotten

System did all it could to stop him

My portfolio spoke

You could have heard a pin dropping

I went to see them

At the Akron Art Museum

Laura called it fine art

Like in Rome’s Coliseum

Magazines came and went

But never fully paid the rent

My intent

Was teach them what KZHS meant

Had to make the world listen

 Took to Twitter like your kids did

In your kitchen every week now

Like I was a Simpson

Whether music or something custom

Don’t ever resort to fronting

Turning nothing into something

For the public’s consumption

Limited edition kicks

And engraved four-fifs

Illustrate a baby’s forehead

If it gets me the chips

KZ High Society

Is like a playing card diary

Engrave the story of your life

On everything I can find

For three years time

Whether .40 cal or 9

I lived by the same line

 “If it ain’t custom it ain’t mine”

I don’t sleep anymore

Gunfight in the drug store

Post traumatic paranoia

Since we’re keeping it raw

I won’t accept jail

Or pre-jail drug sales

I’m too smart for that

Just look at what I did to this track

From Exchange Street to Main Street

The theme here on repeat

Is Akron

Hear me shout it in every track, man

From the Spano Dome

To Goodyear to Firestone

Newton Street with the chrome

Couldn’t leave it at home

Recession leveled things

Like the cars and the rings

Besides me

Who knew the type of greed it would bring?

Copper pipe youngens

Pulling triggers over onions

Cops running to see if snitches saw something

Better not have

If you plan to start it

Fall back for just a moment

These cops will beat you down

Beacon-Journal won’t report it

Grew up on the west

At Superior and Fess

8-7-7 the address

I learned young about stress

If you’re out that way

Tell D I said hey

Third house vacant lot

Where we all used to stay

Son of Summit County

AMHA housed me

With Goodyear Heights surrounding me

Didn’t recognize boundaries

Across from the power plant

Over on Hillside Terrace

Finished up my homework

While my father sold Barretts

A licensed gun dealer

He developed bad habits

Baby blue Continental

Seen in Arlington traffic

All my Reservoir Parker

Ball court after-darkers

With barkers in secret compartments

Hidden under Starter parkas

Local players riding dubs

To Brittain Road strip clubs

Predisposed to be thugs

Wearing hoodies and gloves

If they down our city smack them

With an open hand or magnum

With the crowd loudly resounding

“Fuck you, I’m from Akron,”

I endure the cold winters

Route 8’s my world’s center

Everyone I know a sinner

Hope I make it to dinner

By 91 we’d departed

Or I’d have been at the party

Where a fight over a bitch

Made Brett shoot Charlie

Playing basketball in Florida

When George Ballis called up

Told me the whole story

Like the courtroom reporter

Decade for manslaughter

Boomin’ B was my partner

Made it back to Tonawanda

Got a new respect for ya

In the big gray house

Down the brick hill on Crouse

4am bonfires made

My neighbors have doubts.

Mason Park adjacent

Saw fights and police chases

Head nod the crew on Beaver

When we entered their pavement

The shit we did was shiftless

Delivering prescriptions

Drinking Hennessy with chicks

Laugh about how we get it

See the Lexus at the car wash

On Saturdays it starred us

Brown Street undercharged us

Throwing neighborhood parties

Ron G. in the blue Rivi

On the way to drink with Tiffany

Or the black girl in North Hill

With the house full of weed

Cousin Joe did a stint

High-profile incident

Selling dope in Barberton

Like he was collecting the rent

Converted SKS crouching

He unloaded on their houses

While they kicked back on couches

Sniffing one of his ounces

Better brace for impact

Of ammunition paid back

If you don’t pay the dope track

When you’re fronted a sack

My family dies in threes

Every ten years it seems

Starting lineup for the team

See them all in my dreams.

Lost 3 uncles and an aunt

In the past two years

Worst fear becoming peers again

Before my check clears

King James came up

Got famous and packed his game up

We’re still proud he made it

Understood where he came from

It hurt so don’t debate us

Cleveland media full of haters

They portray the wrong image

Make the AK look like traitors

We remember the bike races

And the titles you gave us

Teaching local kids the basics

Still shit on by newspapers

Rubber City theme song

Learn the words and sing along

AKrowdy all night long

It’s KZ and I’m gone



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