Lyrics Flute - Buckshot, P-Money, Joey Bada$$

Flute

You know, story of the hood
And, it gets a little rough
But, I can’t fail
I gotta keep on going
Keep on going little homie
I know it’s fucked up, trust me
Run DMC and shell top Adidas
Both on fire, I couldn’t afford neither
On Easter, my three piece suit
That I wore 24, sitting (?)
Well, Mom’s had a hell of a way
And Pop’s up in Heaven today
My combination
Made me sell conversation
I couldn’t sell crack, no time for wastin'
Break dancin' was hot and I was a dancer
Squish to the beatbox and now I’m the man cause
When the chicks here brrrr, stick 'em
They think that I’m on and wanna get with 'em
Even when I was young, I peep rhythm
That they weren’t worth most of the shit we give 'em
Yea, life like heads or tails
Ain’t fair when we take off our land as well (?)
You had to have props to be able to grab the microphone
Not anybody could have did that
It’s the big dreamer
Heavy spliff steamer
Joey high rolling the riff raff
The flow is wrong in-tact
In-fact it’s overflowing overseas
Don’t believe me?
Get your buoyancy
Get your boy in sync
The flow got buoyancy, them Pro-Era boys in sync
Rap’s drinking a poison ink, across the loud noise (?)
I face L’s but i’m the best out in the rink
Just to think, these rappers like fighters
The Mike Tyson I acquire is not retired
Nor tired
To attract ends is required
And I don’t punchlines — I punch liars
He’s the element of fire, old man
Been running this shit before I was a grown man
But I owe part of it, word to my home man
I’mma see you again when I get back to the homeland
Cleaning up my act, not another episode of them soaps
Doing it for show, Scrubs, watch them getting old
Covered in such, drive-by the sun with a low (?)
Third album Wheel of Fortune when I bought those O’s
And every other letter when I chose
To finish my sentence when I wrote
Nothing but bars as these boxes get filled
I’m Plaxi with the cops, (?) real
As the Nazis got killed
Paradoxes surreal, the apostles reveal
Tryna stay up out the (?) so we all know the drill
They might offer you deals on the real
A sequel for suspects that won’t talk and won’t squeal
That’s the code we live by so the rules still apply
And the truth I abide, I choose not the lie
Need a new alibi, after a while they won’t have use in the trap
I’m sick like I flew in the Nile, while you dudes in denial
You are article and my crew be the now
Yea, that’s newly announced, yea my crew be renowned
You the student, run out when it’s truancy around
Fly!
Beast Coast!
No Joke!
Tell 'em how we get down man
Pro-Era the Bucktown man