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Sy Ari Da Kid

Sy Ari Brockington (born January 8, 1986) is an American singer, songwriter and rapper. more »

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Hello, this is a free call from an inmate
At the Cobb County Adult Detention Facility
To accept this free call, press 0 yeah, yeah
Check

Knock, knock, who's there?
The feds comin' to take my
Brother for two years
But who cares? The show must go on
Happy new year
I want what they want, but I want it more
I know you see me fightin' at
The game like Suns in four
I'm under more scrutiny
We usually punt the ball
But it's fourth and inches and coaches
Wanna talk, but of course, i didn't
And f*ck the court systems
And all the prisons
Ironic, he gave his word before
He saw a sеntence
I'm honest, in Hеll's Kitchen, still
I do all the dishes
My kindness got taken for weakness
You ever look in the face of your demons
While your son and daughter wanna play
Tryna make up a reason?
It ain't they fault, so pick your head up
Son
Lace up your sneakers, we never belong here
'Cause whether you make it to Heaven or not
The devil was born there
Settle the score wherever you saw fear
If ever you saw fear the last time I folded
I was bendin' a lawn chair
We all clear like skippin' through
The line at the airport
They all stare 'cause I'm lookin'
Younger than I am, i age in dog years
I hate these niggas like Klan members, man
Remember i don't care if you
Gay, straight, or transgender, beginner
You don't want no static, fix your antenna
Dipset affiliate, I'm still callin' Cam Killa
How he a real nigga? He ain't
Got his mans with him
Not a single person from his fam or kin
I just can't seem to shake hands with him
Lord, forgive me
Let's pour some Henny for the
Ones no longer with me
There's darkness in me, I'm haunted, really
But who don't like horror movies?
I walk through 'em
I lyrically painted vivid pictures
That's all proven you are now e mailin' the
First comin' of Jon Gruden
Make way, both ways paved
Always in the middle
'Cause I never graduated from eighth grade
This for them inmates that's still
Locked up in a cage
Still bettin' cigarettes and coffee
When they play spades still sayin', "Ayy
" still don't give a f*ck what they say
Still want my money on time
Not a day late, safe, yeah

Don't forget to say your grace
(Don't forget to say your grace)
Money don't sleep, stay awake
(One eye open, I owe you one, nigga
I owe you two) don't speak on another man
That ain't your place
(Uh uh, The Butcher comin') say your grace

She stayed a week with me at the Regency
My driver waitin' conveniently
I set the pace, then I easily dominate it
Is these rappers real? (Uh)
I never speak in these conversations
I'm biased (Not me)
I had a key for them BET nominations
We not equivalent
Bein' a street nigga don't make
You real as this (Nah)
Tell me how when you not as
Comfortable in your skin as this
Our society, but without the fame
They ain't gonna set me (No)
I made some friends after
Them championship games, rain that confetti
But I'ma lose 'em when I pull
Up back home in that Scaglietti (Skrrt)
They think the drug dealin' me
Still alive like Machiavelli (Damn)
So if rap got a title, most likely
It gotta be his (Bitch)
All honesty mixed with quality kids
I'm not into trends (Uh, uh)
When will this cocky shit end?
(When?) Look at how sloppy I
Is (I'm just trippin') i'm lane shoppin'
Browsin' hoods I could buy some property in
(yeah) i took a couple rappers' spots
And I'm not sorry I did (F*ck 'em)
I got this money quietly like
I'm Sy Ari da Kid the Butcher, nigga (Ah)

It's crazy don't forget to say your grace
Money don't sleep, stay awake
Don't speak on another man
That ain't your place
Yeah, say your grace, nigga

Say your grace, nigga say your grace
Say that

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