Lyrics:
a black sheep
Bla bla bla she attract me
Been running track like an athlete
What does that mean, you can’t catch me
I’m running to the money on caffeine
No
hooks
Type you don't wanna fight wit
Jedi Mind Tricks
Hey yo, great rap outta BC, the track
The beat beast master, heat clapper
Speakin' the facts
Keys
better feeling than running raw
Chain gang link I need a shrink
What y'all niggaz think I'ma do when I get real money
Iano keys played in series
let me work him wit that
Tell Mr.Rogers I'll leave his brain on the trolley track, now prolly that
Listen, y'all stop it, I know you appalled dot it
to smack track
You the Mr. trapped-by-wack-contract
Me the black flag to kill on contact
You the dead roach, me the head coach
You player ready for
three wishes I ain't askin for world peace
I want Range Rovers in three different colors
Genie gimme the damn keys!
Dead wrong like a Dead sticker
it
Ay, last night I squabbled all my demons and got packed out
Someone told them that my skin was brown but on these beats I black out
Uncle found
other out
Chrome and blak nines
In the hands of lost souls
One track minds
Wit Kill or be killed motives
We Programmed to die
Propositioned by the cops
niggas, fake ass bitches
Blackout, shit flip, light switches
Bite back, dogs don't bark
They just spit like this over tracks by The Kurt
Is it lit? Don't
match my drive with all your car keys
I'm raw please, they switching now
Remember when you laughed at us?
"What a bunch of bad rappers"
"Four For a nice
old school making new moves
Amused by these characters and cartoons
How many emcees on a black moon end up lost in this shit?
That's it
Can't follow
each hit like conditioning
Running laps round you boys, you'd think Ima track star
I've been soul searching, think I was black star
Way I'm nodding off,
been all around the world trying to find the key to success
I been all thru the dark valley of the shadow of death, that was a mess
Sometime I sit
With some weed and some vice, on the street by the lights
This some real Miami shit like DJ Entice, you wanna go tough guy
Please lord I need some advice
keys and car titles
House deeds and bank accounts
To make it final i got what you need
The most homicidal words to come
Out of a human being
Mind state
old school making new moves
Amused by these characters and cartoons
How many emcees on a black moon end up lost in this shit?
That's it
Can't follow
the cocky raw
Grip you by you throat, slap you batty jaw, yeah
And she nuh fraid fi say wah she need
Ride pon the ten speed
You better believe
By time me fi
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,
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
that we set in the day,
they actually came to be. (yup yup)
but now I'm lookin at a black white paper,
and with a whole book of memories (but we never
playa-hatin-lame-ass niggas
And we on this laid-back track, something smooth
Eh yo, Mayz, whatcha don' do, kick it
[Mayz]
And ride on, niggas get your high
like startin' Rap World War 3
You rather sell your key to NYPD
My style's vicious, I rap in the lab and break dishes
My words wear jet black hoods,
of my shoes
They too timid to even make it a single minute
I was molded by the pain
Shit, I'm Bane, I was raised in it
You and me are not the same
I was
Thought it gone but it came back
Thought it wrong, now it's stained black
Just a fraction of my mind on track
My last memories of her fadin'
In
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