So you call yourself an icon? How do you spend your life mon? You must be stating facts like, “I con wit’ the jive that I’m on.”
Poppin’ shots and dodgin’ cops, while shots drop your baby bro. You rap on tracks of wrapped dope packs. Blow rapper stackin’ Benji Notes.
His Jacks & Grants grant him the chance to whip Lincolns like vengeful slaves. Who realized that civil rights meant civil whites in dirty days
of washing tons of dirty funds, through laundered currency exchange.
Crooked streets like crooked teeth will eat you worse than fur with mange.
You preachin’ like it weren’t in vain, Decease your life lived currently for peeking behind curtains. These artists pick their targets that they convince with slick certainty.
To rap on tracks of wrapped dope packs and push it to your baby bros. Same baby bros call ladies hoes. You crazy, yo? Well, show it, G!
Grip your piece and grit your teeth, but make sure ya don’t aim crookedly. Or you will see the fluid leak. Then you will be like Trayvon tasting rainbows Sippin’ AZ Tea.
For him this life is but a dream to watch these NBA teams. This can make a BA seem hard to grasp, not like the neck of Eric G.
“I Can’t Breathe” ain’t from chokin’ off hazy green. You crazy, B!
My ADD is makin’ me rap crazily. It lacks the H too! Oh, so hyperactive flow stops reigning sprees.
I aim to teach while you aim and squeeze, cops aim with ease so don’t aimlessly sell out by any means,
to rap actors push many keys, stop playing rap piano please. And realize the struggle as minorities means precedence will represent me.
Not the presidents on dollar bills, but precedence of how at will court cases drop when coppers kill. Or flagrant offenses that spill
a brown man’s blood without a real chance at life. Our life is chance, the devil’s dance is what we do. A 4 step box, waltz willingly to the tune of dead man’s doom
as you consume what mainstream brings; gold chains teeth, and jewelry. Remove sparkled foolery and all that’s left… you will see.
Chains, they shackle you in prison. Teeth, they’ll smile then chew you vicious. Bling you rob your own kind for are worth the lives of kids starting at the age of 3.
I’m out to change the precedence of how we get dead presidents. Dead residents do represent these chalk outlines and empty casings.
Could be scholars, slain for dollars. It’s no hall of fame that they see. But hall of slain, we’re hall of shamed for all the senseless slayings.
Friends who worship dollars, you’re just falling for the chump change. I want change but not the kind with Eisenhower or Jefferson.
I want to bear witness to societies metamorphosis. No more drunk fits while sittin’ right outside the Food-n-Liqus. Change up my environment, stop labeling me animal.
In my hood there’s hella walkways and some dark face 12 year olds, but that don’t give no man the right to cap em right in front his folks.
Animalistic, cannibalistic how we prey upon our helpless foes, who happen to want half the shit that ourselves are askin’ for…
Dead presidents to represent me. I wish new precedence could represent me. So one day the President could represent me.