Lyrics:
Trade your hoodies and your jeans for some slacks, suits and ties
You not a businessman, you a
Nah, I know you know that line
I'm impressed by the messes
lil' white kid shot up a school again (Crazy)
These shootings be gettin' committed by white people
So why the fuck police still shootin' up my people
Some deejays are (good) some deejays are (fresh)
Some deejays are even (def)
But here's a little somethin 'bout my deejay
(The magnificient) Jazzy
of Emilia-Romagna. It’s a warm September morning and the piazza is crowded with people, watched over by the lofty bell tower of the 12th century Basilica of San
reality, you're a casualty on the sidelines
When I'm flipping, ripping, hitting emcees with my rhymes
Some people think I'm crazy (they think we're crazy)
our guns
And while I love my AR-15
I love my people more
America has a problem, y'all
Problems
A nation formed by genociding half my ancestors
brown skin
Need some every now and then oh hey
Where are your people from? Maybe Mississippi or an Island
Apparently your skin has been kissed by
clapped
Black was in the Jeep watchin
All these scenes speed by
It was a brown Datsun
And yo nobody in my hood got one
That clown cat's through, blazin
Welcome to the sunshine, have a seat, stay awhile, have a fun time, thanks for coming
Thanks for spending some time, we laid back, chilled out,
To the nigga that was tryna say somethin'
Some people, listen, you could be predisposed or be preconditioned
Or speak with the preacher, been preaching be
Some spliff
Some spliff
Some dab
Some dab
Some steam
Cut up the Brown
Cut up the purple
Cut up the Green
Peer highrade a blaze inna mi team
We nuh pill
brick by brick
Going too big never ever been on some little shit
Drinking some brown, not Chris
Dancing on beats, making sure my people gone feel this
guarded by gates, security, ops, and the popo and their minds full of hate. Hate Hate Yeah they minds full of hate . ""Take em down Smokey"" Yeah they minds
getting cut in
Halves or parts or pieces
I’m sitting in me sense, they rather me not
Asked me to and you’ll rot soon
Magical wisdom in our people
That some
a marker
Mainly what I write is for the average New Yorker
Some MC's be talking and talking
Trying to show how black people are walking
But I don't walk
It was the morning of October 6th, 1960
I was wearing my brown suit
Preparing to leave the house of D.
Shook some hands then adios Brooklyn amigos
Wonder Mike and
I'd like to say "hello"
To the black, to the white
The red and the brown, the purple and yellow
But first
I gotta bang bang the boogie
they make rope outta
This funny little hemp plant that grows wild in the ground.
Some of you people grow it in flower pots under your bed?
Ehh
Black man, drop top
There go the cops
There go the cops
There go the cops
Is it because of my people?
Is it because of my sneakers?
Is it
that you love
Tell me you love
Unbreak my
Say that you love
Say that you love
Tell me
In a church,by the face,
He talks about the people going
trapping
Skr skr, drop top car
I dabble in the kitchen with the magic
Caramel brown she attractive
I get money on the road, in the trap and
Police
colorful names
I'm so-and-so
I'm this
I'm that
Huh, but they all just wick-wick-wack
I'm not white or red or black
I'm brown
From the Boogie
own kind at times, fail to stand by your side
Shove the filters in their eyes till they gone blind
I just need some screen time from people of the same
am Wonder Mike, and I'd like to say hello
To the black, to the white, the red and the brown
The purple and yellow, but first, I gotta
Bang bang,
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