[Verse 1: Mick Jenkins]
And I been on that same shit that I was on in 09
Never did the pig, and I do not fuck with bovine
Either man, check the style, I can spit a couple clotheslines
Hang em out to dry, give a fuck about a cosign
Feature, I could teach you bout bars like the DEA
Talk green with the PGA
Spark a stogey, I’m so up to par
So up to par, these n***as bogey
All that flashy shit is bogus
N***a show me what you produce like vegetarian grocery carts
From the heart, and it’s mostly art
With a flow that break ankles, much worser than Kobe’s are
What a holy art
And Jason Sellers should have went to Juilliard
I know too many talented minds to not prevail
Southside, just a plot detail
Rebel, and it’s designer, hope we never think it’s cot, retail
Free nation rebel, you cannot resell
He, so, over the wave, I just hope that you can follow the flow
The flood’s coming, you can’t just follow the boat
It’s an art n***a, provide the light when it gets dark
Just let the vibes be the spark
Chilling, chiefing in the park, we
Was five deep, did defend like it was shark week
Via Rosa brought the sage and the parsley
I’m hardly, anything like anyone you ever thought you knew
Never mind what you thought you do
We want the real
[Verse 2: YC the Cynic]
We could do this, the easy way or the hard way
Before a train cross paths on a car chase
This is an act of god like the bible on Broadway
This is black Yahweh in a cosplay
Instead of on a cross, dudes dying face down
In a parkway, with a knee forced down till it’s arch breaks
From an off-beat cop throwing out bait, barked on his off day
At the desk, from a prior assault case
I’ll say it till my dying day
Fuck a cop if he crooked, fuck a coward if he busting
Imma teach my n***as justice like it’s John Jay
Ain’t no honor for the meek, ain’t no power in your speech
Either say it with your chest or get it concaved
Contrary to belief, cops burying my peeps
Potbelly of the beast, this is sautéed
Only if they got a black or bronze face
We done been through hell and back like Dante
So you can’t blame a have not that know not
Papa was one "hunna", I’m a chip off the "O Block"
Negus on the street path always see a road block
N***as with the filthy hands always on that soapbox
Probably as a writeoff, pushing n***as right off
It’s something you make light of, you n***as Sammy Sosa
Aw man, another murder and a slap on the wrist
Two weeks and he back on his shit
Goddamn