Lyrics:
With the black
In it, black hoodie, consciousness
And black fact
Yo, a young kid was shot, is the cry we heard
Like Emmett Till
It was tears and hearts
as back when
Used to have to grind just get recognized
Now every thing is instantly gratified
The truth in us lies in between thin lines
I Live like poor
And when you sing you kinda sound like you dying sometimes
You make the type of tracks that had me feelin' silent inside
Nobody take you serious, put all
on the track and not caring if terrorists attack
Yo, fuck Trump and his policies, man like honestly
This is the best dude you could come up with? Ya gotta be
With an alternative hippie kid from the record label watchin your back
Talkin about, "Mariah Carey's funky,"
Makin the average group buckdance like
swear I ate a sandwich a day
I'm talking shit with the junkies at the race track
Pedaling CD's that most niggas ain't played
Gave it for free, cause most
thatt about
I was the only rapper out
Beverly foxhill roscos swapmeet
Slosin crenshaw comton we not sweet
Like I'm chump change
Jimmy with his gun game
(I'm Hot) Open the door, feel the breeze
And park that ass like Aj's and Free's
But this section's E's behind the rope
If your not with me freeze
You should cancel classes
No way, coach i send the kids home
Before lunch and the
Switchboard will light up like
A Christmas tree
Our children
slipped
The Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin ripped
Gangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-by
You wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out,
credit to the flow
If you not a part of this kid act like you know
Fuck the studio, Cappaccino the great
Fly cherry head niggas like planes out of state
by one
Till we both get up the mountain and just pop like guns
Composure, if I keep it past the two-minute mark
I'ma bang till the sun peaks so you in
really on
Used to have rhythms on my mp3 player
Burned them down from a CD ROM
I took a break, I was so far gone
Had to get back to the roots I'm from
Little Sammy was a kid on a council estate
His dad listened to the skids, the slits and the slates
So Sammy listened too, he loved the passion in it
caring
They just use me to watch the baby when they run they errands
My name is ___ I got a friend named Karen
She gave me your CD with the track for
Give me the cue
Skip the introduction
Proceed the lip function
The junction get rushed by some grimy people busting weed
Splatter your melons like
don't mention
We just keep this world
Spinning like a CD ROM
My main hitter
Across the pond in Welby
So if you peak he blind ya
Just like Thomas Shelby
I
Your CD get's thrown in the bin
What does it get? It get's thrown in the bin
What does it get? It get's thrown in the bin
Cuz, I like your mix tape cover
on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slaying gcrews in icu
Battling, using hockey rules
For Keith Murray, doc gon' cock these tools
Rollin down like
Ha ha i'm back, bastards!
(Oh yeah) when the chips were down you
Just laughed at us now you 'bout to feel the
Fucking wrath of Aftermath, faggots!
on a track
Keeping it G ain't nuttin, you ain't gotta like it cause the hood gone love it
You ain't gotta like it 'cause the hood gone love it
Watch a young
send the kids home before lunch and the switchboard'll light up like a Christmas tree
Our children are dying!
I suggest we get everyone into
the therapy
Filling up CDS
But my philocetes
Was theatre
And combining two deities
In Geary theater
what a dream true
I'ma mixed breed
Like hercules
So your
to your caucus
Like the Rucker, balling, like I'm Zuckerberg, oh Cole you lost us
This is just my stream of conscience, the train of thought is Acela
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