Soul Right

MadlibMadlib 

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Madlib

Otis Jackson Jr. (born October 24, 1973 in Oxnard, California), known professionally as Madlib, is a Los Angeles-based DJ, multi-instrumentalist, rapper, and music producer. Known under a plethora of pseudonyms, he is one of the most prolific and critically acclaimed hip hop producers of the 2000s and has collaborated with a myriad hip hop artists, including MF DOOM (as Madvillain), and the late J Dilla (as Jaylib). Madlib has described himself as a "DJ first, producer second, and MC last," and he has done several projects as a DJ, mixer, or remixer. more »

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Smooth, nigga, you know what I'm sayin'?
Too motherfuckin' smooth, bitch, yeah
Bald head, head like a baby, a baby ass, bitch, yeah
Yeah, Kane
Here to motherfuckin' remain, yeah
Uh, bitch nigga
It's still f*ck police, too
Yeah, nigga, yeah

Rest in peace Terrence Crutcher, motherfuck Betty Shelby (F*ck that bitch)
I never wish death but bitch, find a hollow tip and inhale it
When Taz drove off with two kilos, I told him we should mail it
And now we gone up the river, they seen my nigga sellin'
Nigga killed the police in Dallas, that's probably fake news
While they knock 'em off with robotics, R2D2's
Everything on me icy, Snow White, it's just like I skiied through
I sit back in the trap with them rats and I watch the cheese move
Shaki' all these nutso niggas off the roof, off the record
Ball without a motherfuckin' ball like I was Tommy Sheppard
Life a bachelor party, we with them strippers on O's and X's
I can't hold no grudges, my hands is too busy catching blessings, yeah

Yeah, and I been struggling my whole life, yeah
I pour it up and get my soul right

East side boy, my mama was the mail lady (Yeah)
Brother and my sister got degrees but I got the yayo, baby (Yeah)
Had to beat my case, I can't turn Irie to a jail baby
Bitch, I weigh that shit up in my crib, I think your scale shady
Pass it off and drop it like Stockton, bitch, I facilitate
Fucked some niggas off but I also done set some niggas straight
Way back when we had rows and Lincolns is all a nigga ate
And every day I f*ck up a bulletproof glass chicken plate, uh
Empty stomach, broken heart, and empty pocket
Three things that occur to show you if you and your niggas solid
Know that they won't prosper but the devil still gon' form the weapon
I can't hold no grudges, my hands is too busy catching blessings, yeah (Blessings, blessings)

Yeah, and I been struggling my whole life, yeah
I pour it up and get my soul right, yeah
'Cause I been struggling my whole life, yeah
So I broke it down and it was all white, yeah
Mama always told me it'd be alright, yeah
I still broke it down and it was all white, yeah
I pray the Lord'll get my soul right, yeah
I still pray to Lord'll get my soul right

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