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[Verse 1] |
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White devils like it |
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I'm drinking coffee brought to me |
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By white devils' sidekicks |
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They askin' if we like to get higher |
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Like they hired him |
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The fire and brimstone is known |
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To be composed of desire never twice lived |
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The metal might miss, but the beveled edge |
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Of the mind can provide tricks |
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To bring the light to the likes of whites and black kids |
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As well, it's like magic, I'm not your average |
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Negro please, I know I'm an idiot |
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But I got a stick and I'mma use it a little bit |
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I'm not too sure if I should clue in the little kids |
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Or if I'm too clueless to move with the bigger fish |
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Why it gotta be those too and not some other shit |
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Take me to the mothership |
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Hate me I'm a? |
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I'm Lady Gaga, I'm a fag, I'm a lesbian |
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See me playin' bass in jam bands up at Wesleyan |
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See me at a poetry slam in like '97 |
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Singing classic numbers by Otis Redding |
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Totally shredding |
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Hoping you get it, yeah |
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[Hook x2] |
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Relax relax relax relax |
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Relax relax relax relax |
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Relax relax relax relax |
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Relax relax relax relax |
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Yea yea yea yea yea |
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Yea yea yea yea yea |
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Yea yea yea yea yea |
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No no no no no |
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No no no no no |
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No no no no |
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[Verse 2] |
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What good is this Cashmere |
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If they're still dying in Kashmir |
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Kushmir |
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There was homes, now there's just dust there |
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Next year, same as this year |
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I'll rough ya |
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Live in much fear, stay inside after dust here |
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Brush tears from eyelids |
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Peep violence |
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And these people is dyin' |
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I'm wildin' |
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Old Irk said they wanna move back |
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But they ain't got enough funds to do that |
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Back in 1980, from Philly to Queens |
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She had a pocket full of lint, he had a suitcase full of dreams |
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From holdin' me to bagging groceries at the Path Mart |
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To scoldin' me for drinking and driving in fast cars |
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Juvenile shit |
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I ain't really tryin' to rap about |
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I don't remember from b-b-ba b-blackin' out |
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These days, I'm mostly focused on my bank account |
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I ain't backin' out until I own a bank to brag about |
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A local institution, life of the party |
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With him and at him, brown Chris Farley |
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Call up? VJ from? |
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Wiles out at night, can't breathe through his nostrils |
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Poppa need his medicine |
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Reticent to let them in |
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Hesitant better when |
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An elegant let 'em ins |
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Another fresh shit, to distract you |
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[Hook] |
