From Willie Lynch to Willie Hutch
|
Right on, we Superfly
|
Made Gucci the shit, Louis too
|
Suits and ties
|
Player trophies
|
Pray to Goldie
|
Picture wax museums
|
Full of black pimps and triple OG's
|
Aunt Jemima hoes, historic whore shit
|
Girls from long time ago
|
Stagecoach with the horse, kid
|
Witchdoctors, good ol' pickpockets
|
Sip moonshine, so-called coon shines??????? and darkies
|
I love y'all
|
Pyramids to cotton fields to Wrigley fields
|
Forgotten men who did get killed
|
Christmas attics, the first plastered???????
|
Peace to the rich-lady-purse-snatcher shot in the back
|
I know your hunger, kid, I know they hung your dad
|
Burnt your mama crib, I know that hurt you bad
|
Minstrel shows, from gold to shackles and back to gold
|
We act like we home, matter fact, we are home
|
Bad attitudes, octoroon skin tones
|
Slave food turn to soul food
|
Collards and neck bones
|
Betsy Ross sewed the first American flag
|
Bet she had a nigga with her to help her old ass
|
|
Yo, on Dateline
|
The other night they showed hate crimes
|
Gave a blood time because he fought with his canine
|
Bestiality, humane society
|
Go to China, see how they dine
|
See what they eat
|
Better yet ask PETA, whoever
|
Which animal makes suede
|
And I persuade, would you have survived the dark ages
|
Cannibal ways of the ancient Caucasians
|
Still you like your steak tartar
|
Pinot Noir; David star on the chain of Sammy Davis
|
He helped pave the way for Southern crankers and them Harlem shakers
|
Now we getting our papers, they try to censor the words
|
To stop our money coming, but you can't escape us, haters
|
|
03. Breathe (Produced by J. Myers & Dustin Moore)
|
|
In America, you'll never be free
|
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
|
Damn, can a nigga just breathe
|
|
Bravehearts, still QB's Finest
|
Grinding, enough diamonds
|
To change the climate
|
Not only do you see a nigga shinin'
|
You can see a nigga breathe
|
|
Jewels enchanted
|
Like they was new from Atlantis
|
Cruise with the hammer
|
Jealous-hearted, can't stand them
|
Haters are scandalous, damn
|
Can't a nigga just breathe
|
|
To all my niggas getting money in the streets
|
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
|
Light up my trees, and I just breathe
|
|
I twist them
|
Baby-momma-beef victim
|
Chronic leaf-hitting
|
All kinds of heat wit him
|
Wisdom, from pot to pissin'
|
To high position
|
Intense hustle
|
It's pain like a pinched muscle
|
'Til it rains and my Timbs stain my socks
|
'Til I dodge enough shots and the presiding judge
|
Slams a mallet and says 'life', I'ma guap
|
Then I cop, then I yacht, then I dock
|
Island-hopping, away from nightmare-holders
|
Or cowboy slangers, who shoot up any club
|
To see their names ring loud on some FBI poster
|
Must be on X or he coked up, suggesting I post the
|
Bail, I'm like yes, 'cause we soldiers
|
We just getting older
|
In time, we still in our prime
|
I can't afford a new arrest on my folder
|
Nigga, breathe
|
|
In America, you'll never be free
|
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
|
Damn, can a nigga just breathe
|
|
Bravehearts, still QB's Finest
|
Grinding, enough diamonds
|
To change the climate
|
Not only do you see a nigga shinin'
|
You can see a nigga breathe
|
|
Jewels enchanted
|
Like they was new from Atlantis
|
Cruise with the hammer
|
Jealous-hearted, can't stand them
|
Haters are scandalous, damn
|
Can't a nigga just breathe
|
|
To all my niggas getting money in the streets
|
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
|
Light up my trees, and I just breathe
|
|
I'm fresh out of city housing
|
Ain't have too many options
|
Pennies on a pension or penitentiary-bounded
|
Plenty Henny in me
|
??Envy was simple they trend see??
|
My enemy was every hater that was bigger than me
|
The high life, the fly life
|
Pierre Hardy, Imitation of Christ
|
Iceware gaudy, since '94 flossy
|
The Lex was an excellent choice now fast forward me
|
The pestilence of the ghetto informed me, as a shorty
|
To push nothing less than a 740
|
With fresh linen
|
Sip Pellegrino with heirs on
|
They sick, mixing they water when airborne . . .
|
|
Oh, they so sick
|
Look how I got them going crazy
|
Look at that
|
You gotta let it out
|
Stress ain't good, |