Lyrics:
Pumpkin spice on the ice after each meal
Black Friday and I kinda want a Beats Pill
New season new reason for a cheap deal
And who doesn't love
being attacked by bees (bzz)
In the coupe, leaning back my seat (what?)
Bumpin' R. Kelly's favorite group (uh), the black guy (guy) pees (haha, pees)
out of high school
Stereotypes of a black male misunderstood
And it's still all good
And if you don't know, now you know, nigga
You know very well
look-a-there
I wonder when she comin' back?
Now, look-a-there, the honey
A-ooo-wee
Baby, way over there by the apple tree
Now, look-a-there
She got long, black
to switch the hue 'cause them LA boys smuggy
But more likely to get hurt by somebody who love me
My lady, she don't trust me (nah), know I'm a sick puppy
black, with the oak wood
Gucci shoes, that's how I play
Hold up, I don't gamble, I don't play no craps
I was taught early on don't jeopardize
while I'm gettin' high
I'm watchin' as the world goes by
'Cause they don't give a fuck about us
If I choose to ride, thuggin' 'til the day I die
They
the album, you know
So, uh, Dame took me into the hallway
He's like "Yo, man, B, B, you don't want a brick, you don't want a brick"
"You gotta be under
to stop by and check us out sometime
He looked at me like I'm out my mind
Shook his head like, "White boys don't know how to rhyme"
I spit out a line
ancestors died
Don't keep thinking that we will quit
We'll always stand and never sit
We're 2 Live, too black, too strong
Doing the right thing, and not
taking credit for what God made
Fuck this album shit hey mama look what God made
She's mine
Catch me
Don't you, (she's mine) catch me
Don't you,
Oh, do you feel me? Facts, what I'm still on
And I still got racks, I'm a real don
And we used to bang your shit
Now you're album, it's just
[Nas]
The Firm, Trackmasters, Escobar, Allure Keep it raw!
A-yo the bridge keep rockin
we comin through bottles popin
Allure when your album
Bitch, I go by 224, move a half a bow
Got some bitches who gon' do it what I say so
Bitch, I go by 224, move a half a bow
Might just pour a deuce in
seeing black, so I gotta black, the magic is black (magic is black)
What generation don't listen to Nas, don't listen to rap
Spit on my platinum plaques
know how we do
Mic check, I walk around the streets with a black TEC-9
By the waistline, kickin' the hype shit
I never claimed to be the best type
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
inhale
Been in custody before, but never in jail
Baby, I love you like America
Don't talk to me fly
But I promise you if you do, bitch
I'll black ya eye
there's whites, separated by the green
After five hundred years, think we play for the same team
Smokescreen, make the president a black guy
It ain't no
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
Yeah, this album is dedicated
To all the teachers that told me I'd never amount to nothin'
To all the people that lived above the buildings that I
by the CIA or the industry
Know where black hands be on black Glocks
No back stabs or sad plots, we let them rot
1-800-Nas&Hit, don't call us with
doing, is from my old record
They bought my album, for $8.99
Studied the style, then wrote they own rhyme
I don't mind because I'm here to show
Adam in check?
And if so, you gotta expect to sip juice
From the forbidden fruit and get loose
Cole is the king, most definite
My little black book
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