[Black Thought]
Yeah, you so clich', you're the nouveau riche
To come up hard as a youth and knew no peace
You hit that lick, you switched to a new motif
In a whip with two low seats and new gold teeth
You say you wanna live fast, gettin' paid in cash
Puffin' the most gas and dyin' of car crash
You never learned math in school, you cut class
So you can't count, what's in the clip? You just blast
I feel your mind spinnin' in place and just bufferin'
And all you're tryna see is some place with less sufferin'
But make a lot of big blue faces, it's just hustlin'
What could I say that you would embrace, I guess nothin'
This isn't in attempts to reach you and your hitters
The last thing you do is bullshit a bullshitter
The streets is a bitch, you up in the club with her
You should cease and desist, but you too in love with her, yuh
[Black Thought & Conway the Machine]
Who passed the baton like a drum major of Howard
We transfer the power for salt water and flower
My pen packs a dawah, Akira Kurosawa
My ideas is gunpower, secure the tower
That overlooks a graveyard full of cancelled niggas
Who paid ransoms when they made handsome figures
Guilt and bad business'll make a man religious
I'm the difference of where Stanford and stand for biggers
Save the revelry if you tryna lower level me
I be over seventy, flippin' the script regularly
Know the L holder 'bout to be you instead of me
Why, 'cause you a dick head, I'm a Dick Gregory
Send in every opponent, disciplinary notice
Ulterior motives begin pure as a lotus
Even if uncertain, I bet you I'd never showed it
If you checkin' for me to choke, I suggest you adjust your focus (Yeah)
[Conway the Machine]
Look, they heard me rhyming, they wanna know where to find me at
The grimy cat from the main street trenches insomniac
Three in the mornin', lurkin' in that Pontiac
Where I'm from, you gotta take your pole even when you go to the Laundry mat (Keep it on you)
Niggas tryna line me, but I had time to react
We spend the same day and the day after, we slyin' back (Uh-huh)
Empty the mop in broad day and leave somebody wacked
(Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
He tried to run, three or four shots, hit him inside his back (Brr)
And that go for anybody that rap
That Buffalo nigga that catch the bodies wack (Ha)
Hol' up, rewind me back (Cap)
They heard me rhyming, they wanna know where they find me at
The grimy cat from the main street trenches insomniac
Three in the mornin' catch me inside the trap (Huh?)
Knockin' off a ninty pack right by the door where the MAK-90 at (Uh-huh)
After the deal the label still wanna sign me back
The contract worth a few mill', but I ain't signing that (Hahahaha)
[ Conway the Machine]
Yeah nigga
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