They Vouching

Boldy JamesBoldy James 

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Boldy James

James Clay Jones III (born August 9, 1982), better known by his stage name Boldy James, is an American rapper from Detroit, Michigan. His debut album, My 1st Chemistry Set, was released on October 15, 2013. more »

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I be pushin' heavy machinery through Conway, Mississippi
Pop Ace at the Richie, but you know my hombres bringin' through brickies
Grittin' in the trenches, let me know that shit done when you finished
Critical condition, I done left my victims in intensive
When it's risky business, just another one-way trip to Venice
Was gone for too long, left all of the raw-heads dope sick
American flag mag, all-red four-fifth
Blue tips in the clip on some baldhead hoe shit
Ferocious, all praise to the host with the most-est
Who smuggle loads through the postage
Don't overdose on the dosage
Four kicks to a clef note, I make the blow do aerobics
The flow's sick like strep throat mixed with pneumonia and COVID
In high demand, back by popular vote, I was GOATed
It's game time, but don't need no remote control to control it
Fighting flow, this facing letters, bro, I'd dare to say forever
Had three shootouts out on bond, I damn near violated tether
Let's get it

They plottin', I'll red dot him
Spot him, got him
Let's kill him, no problem
Who shot ya? The robbers
And killers, they vouchin'
My hitters, they bouncin' out with choppers
Nuff power in prison to move a mountain
The robbers, killers, and shooters, they vouchin'

Wide shut, shit that I done seen'll leave your eyes bugged
Man down, mad they let my AK with my side tucked
High as f*ck, pockets in my skinnies, you know mines stuffed
Your time in that coffin gon' be way longer than that nine months
Hundred-k the long way, fifty-thou' tied up
Fourties in my Lincoln match these pointers in my ice buffs
Slappin' all these 'bows of the Vezzo got me iced up
Seven hundred grams in a empty box of Rice Puffs
Baking soda mixin', BoJay asked me, "What's that white stuff?"
Caked up on the side of my 'rex, look like some pie crust
Why must I be like that? How much I bleed the trap
Don't chase the cat, I'll tame the dog then let 'em eat the scraps
Niggas caught me at the airport, thought it was checkmate
A walkin' lotto ticket, rob me, you hit the sweepstakes
Brutus "the Barber" Beefcake, we play for keepsakes
Was fresh out of the 'spital, quarter-milli' in my neck brace

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