Lyrics Slippery Slope - Blockhead, Billy Woods, Open Mike Eagle

Slippery Slope

Watching the world through a pair of broken eyeglasses
I hope that what I see is only make-believe
Watching the world through a pair of broken eyeglasses
I watch the cats watch the mice
Hit the weed 'til both legs fell asleep
I’m not really there, fuck you gon' tell me?
High and out of it, admittedly its own form of cowardice
But yo, at six afro pick with the black power fist
Corduroys and a turtleneck, I could’ve took your (unnecessary)
Thirteen with the Malcom X hat, come on, man
I invented bein' black, my skin was matte
Carte blanche, I skipped the daps
To-do list pristine, once your name on the list, the light’s green
Peeled out the impounded Christine
I remember when whites used to come to the hood
Ask random black strangers for drugs
Shrug, wistful look in the eye, blinkin' hard
Like those was the days, blood
Outside agitator, I get your natives worked up
Women shimmin' out they burqas turnt up
Sons turnt gay, dad like what the fuck?
I don’t want trouble mister, I’m just tryna turn a buck
And it’s sundown out by sun up
This why I pack light, bag of tricks tied up tight
Bindle on a stick, flophouse flea bit
Still sleepin', daytime’s for twits
While I was getting jumped, kept track of who got which licks
Stop, stop hittin' him
That’s mean
Yeah
I was supposed to stop drinkin' this month
Ain’t seen a break since Tiger’s last fist pump
My clothes is feelin' tight like a kid’s bunk
Bed, I’ma dress like Alvin and the Chipmunks
A long ass gown and red snapback
I’m lookin' all abstract and half Bohemian
The divine geometry of an afro’s median
And other shit I retrofit meanings for later
This hat for instance I found in a meteor crater
I was teachin' my kid how Ben Franklin made kites fly
Saw a bright white light appear in the night sky
My son’s gonna feel free to be as weird as a white guy
But probably won’t have the wealth to farm cucumbers
But probably by that time you can farm through Tumblr
Like, on the website you could, like grow shit right there
Listen
I’m so ebbed into stylin' that’s wilder than cold lampin'
While it’s Flava Flav ain’t behave like no trampin'
Holdin' hate talkin' Golden State ain’t no champin' (Trash)
Hood people talkin' good we gon' go campin' (I'm good)
All the unseen and in my case sun gleamin'
Vex spinnin' the ex intended for puns meanin'
Phonics on some black as Onyx word to Sonny Seeza
Lookin' down the barrel of life like gun' cleanin'
On some ready to shoot jack, I’m through the night
Booky and dodgin' heavy pursuit crack a move gets tight
Order stop, call the cops when they lack reason
And other than when a brother offends for black breathin'
As I hope for better options, but stay with my Listerine
And keep it Otis Redding, Dock of the Bay type whistle cleanin'
It could make you wanna kill a man
If I’m real bein' shit’s demeanin'
Ya think you know what I’m meanin'?