Lyrics:
on the street we seen these before
Graffiti on the sidewalk yellow tape and all
Graffiti just the surface level hurting at our core
Paint the bigger picture
Chorus (Devn Shacklett)
Deep down in your waters of your loving baby swimming to the surface surfing on ya wave
I'm tryna dive further in
Don't need
Needle sleeping under surface of his polka dot skin
And he hurted
Kid let the addiction win shit
And in this summer job
That took me to neighborhoods
I had
On the surface, you a 9,
It be perfect in disguise, yeah
If you tryna chill, i’m making room up in the schedule,
Bumping careless whisper, you would think you
(Whoa)
Errybody dissin' just to have clout (Whoa)
Thought you had a chance, now you assed out
Nigga, I'm the motherfuckin' man, where you at now? (Whoa)
man, I'm high like a kite
Still I can roll a spliff with mi eyes shut tight
Pretty girl, she said I'm on point
She like what me like and she love my type
on me, that's personal
And you know that's certi
How you just tell half?
I ain't gonna dive in a lake so mirky
Under the surface, that's your past
"Is man
Than it is to repair
Broken men
The mountains so high we wonder where to begin
The White man's happiness cannot be won
By the Black man's misery cause
The big wheel keeps on turning
On a simple line day by day
The earth spins on its axis
One man struggle while another relaxes
There's a hole in
you like, you by yourself
And you just cruising on the highway man
Yeah this, this got me thinking
Uh, I'm smoking on that cat piss
Swerving
They ask what me I live by
Gold
My grind, keeps going and I can't stop
They know
My shine diamonds are apartheid
Whoa
I'm fly, the surface doesn't
Tell your god to come and save me
For I am in, much too deep
Drenched below the surface
Drowned under my burden
The pain that have come to pass
Shows
by Gloria Carter and Adaness Revees
Who made love under the Sycamore tree
Which makes me
A more sicker emcee than my momma would claim
At ten
by Gloria Carter and Adaness Revees
Who made love under the Sycamore tree
Which makes me
A more sicker emcee than my momma would claim
At ten
Hahaha, come on
One by one (yeah), two by two
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up
One by one, two by two
I'ma knock 'em all down, down
Lord have
and I'm bumpin' that "My Way"
By Sinatra, so high, so high, oh my, God damn
Now I'm a grown man, oh man
With the fuckin' habits of a the plan
I know,
there
(Ugh)
We all hail from the Motherland
But get colonized, on the other hand
We must unify instead of blame the other man
Is they who lack
England
Sealed in a leather canister, the aged script was accompanied
By an ornate bronze key of unknown origin
The author of the journal remains
how to fish, is supposed you try'na feed him
Look a man in the eyes, that's the best way to read him
'Cause faces they change, but point of views remain
Tryna keep us in the background (in the back)
Tryna keep us in the back man we always on attack now
Man they tryna hold us back they ain't even
bite the hand that feed 'em, your man is low-key competin'
Be somebody you helped, that got beside theyself
Movin' like it's bodies under they belt
and peruse my record crate
The man I used to be, I can only see by looking beyond me
So what is reality? I don't know
I tried it, I couldn't find it
Now
central nervous system like heroin reppin' Maryland to the fullest
Bustin' like bullets that travel through chambers ignited by triggers, don't pull it
I
isn't my day
Y'all can dub and hurt me
But I'm fueled by God's tender love and mercy
Devil tryna work me
But I pop up in the scene, chocolate car,
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