| Yo, listen, homie
|
| Listen, homie
|
| Listen, homie
|
| Listen, homie, this the mission:
|
| Make sure we no longer up in the kitchen
|
| Munchin' fried baloney, government cheese, paper plates
|
| White rice covered with beans with tea on the side
|
| Listen, homie, this the mission:
|
| Make sure the lights work when we switch 'em
|
| Whiter white or lukewarm
|
| Not a wordsmith, good book tour, write hooks for
|
| Abrams over Luke’s score
|
| Listen, homie, this the mission: from back back in the kitchen
|
| Mom and Daddy penny pinchin'
|
| Car need a new ignition, and brake pads in the back
|
| Back by any means a mutherfucker get it
|
| Seen you in your dream of glory and grandeur
|
| Better get your answers before they can stop us
|
| The drug grease nicely for the palm of your handler
|
| Slippin' in the moment and forgettin' big papa is
|
| Speak with candor, go mind your manners, new world old money
|
| The dope got antlers, too cold to stand around and answer
|
| Don’t grow no show, too cold Costanza
|
| Too cold Costanza, too cold Costanza
|
| Don’t grow don’t show, too cold Costanza, cold Costanza
|
| Too cold Costanza
|
| Too cold
|
| (New world, old money
|
| New, new money…
|
| New world, old money…)
|
| Let me get lost in my headspace
|
| Queen took the King to the boards, yelling «checkmate»
|
| Clyde is the best mate, cut from the cuff link off of the coffin
|
| Laugh if they cuff me
|
| Let me get my head back, pullin' out the weave
|
| If they shootin' heads, they protect the legacy
|
| We ain’t never sleep, we been workin' here for weeks
|
| Weeks turn months, months to years, I see the enemy
|
| But amongst your fear I see flight on a reflex
|
| Red dye high in the sky, where the chief next
|
| Teach your partner how to fly a yacht, getting sea legs
|
| 'Round the world if you got the Glock, killing
|
| Millions of people, billions of dollars in wealth
|
| Fell asleep at the wheel, get in the car, try to sell
|
| Spiteful cycles are bad for the kind of wealth
|
| Now we know how grandmama felt
|
| Speak with candor, go mind your manners, new world old money
|
| The dope got antlers, too cold to stand around and answer
|
| Don’t grow no show, too cold Costanza
|
| Too cold Costanza, too cold Costanza
|
| Don’t grow don’t show, too cold Costanza, cold Costanza
|
| Too cold Costanza
|
| Too cold
|
| (New world, old money
|
| New, new money…
|
| New world, old money…) |