Lyrics:
They don't know bad like that
See I hop out I tap man's plaits
See I hop out I tap man's fade
Dot-dot wave everybody get blazed
How they chat my name,
a mission
I'm still rocking black like it Batman
The Dora the map in my backpack
Cutting through line (Lien) like a hashtag
Dripping like a had a swim meet
I'ma get my quarterback backpack got a Mac
Hardaway throwback, pinstripe, all black
Iraq, I attack, everyday, come back
Tony Parker, Rondo, two nines,
threadin' the needle
You know me, it ain't nothin' corny in the wardrobe
I'm low key, even more so than Thor's bro
Impeccable ear, I take Braille, make it
Yahweh
Selassie eye and I'm proud to say, I never need a 9 by my waist
Niggas still respect my game so celestials respect my space
And I just might be in
We're back motherfucker!
Black Snow! Snowgoons! What up Reef!
AOTP! JuJu Mob! Charon Don! (Woh) Sicknature!
I go by the name King Magnetic!
(dot dot
Black boy, this that black boy joy
See we ain't the ones that your crack destroyed
Feel that black boy, feel that black boy joy
They only recognise
to control this?
I know some folk that live by the levee
That keep on telling me they heard explosions
Same shit happened back in Hurricane Betsy
1965: I ain't
mi gal dem in di black lace
This just a small ting one likkle taste
Tek a likkle sample no time fi waste
Mix up di treble and tun up di beass
Mr.
my dogs in a pen by the roof (Uh)
She want a X pill, smoke my dope (Hold on)
Smoke my dope in peace (Smoke my dope)
She want coco, I hand her my keys
to it
Her hair's straight and thick but mine's got waves in it
Black is not divisive, they been lyin' and I hate the shit
Black has never been
Point Dot... Point Dot...
Point Dot... Point Dot...
Point Dot... Point Dot...
I'm chilling
But if I take these 2 hands outta my pocket
This 2 piece
the norm
I'm gonna take the world by storm, just give this one listen more
If you ain't pick up what I said, you ain't really about it
This ain't slinging
crazy my homey pushing dasies
Never had a chance to see his unborn baby
Ain't that sad black rolling in the cadillac
4, 15 woofers bumping behind I
crazy my homey pushing dasies
Never had a chance to see his unborn baby
Ain't that sad black rolling in the cadillac
4, 15 woofers bumping behind I
three
Gotta Ride with the glock (Uh) by the steering wheel
Why you playing games hiding my keys it don't make you real
No I cannot get your nigga a deal
don't fake mine, I do this the fair way
Snitches get stitches, blown away and left on display
Hung by the grapevine, I just kicked a chair away
Let me be
Laid back, in the lac
Grippin' the grain
As I'm cruisin' the streets
(Cruisin' the streets girl)
It's 112 on the dot
Your on the phone talkin'
S Dots, it's about that time
To do Michael Jordan numbers
The sneaker game is mine
I ain't made 'em for the ball court
I made 'em to shine
So you can score
and pray you won't be prey today
Or caught up with by the karma that won't fade away
I've got mine in the bank, so I can try to save up enough
To buy a chain
the bullets out of 2Pac's ribs (take 'em out)
If I could I would reverse the car, reverse the beef
Put it all in a pot and boil it on a D. Dot beat (hit me
pain swells
I spend all my time killin' brain cells
The light shed on me was a dim gleam
So I live life in a bottle of Jim Beam
Droppin' dots
And I might shoot his ass in the face, straight up
Don't believe in hoe problems so I leave these hoes
You did that time by yourself so you don't need
Kiss the black cross from my black rosary
Tuck it back in my shirt, jump in the booth kick a verse
This earth is where I got the thousand yard stare from
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