Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Knicks Remix, artist - Madlib. Album song Knicks Remix, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 17.11.2014
Record label: Madlib Invazion
Song language: English
Knicks Remix |
| Uh, chillin in the 6 |
| Smokin the Cali, (Ice Bucket Challenge) on my wrist |
| Young and black in the U.S., it’s a challenge to exist |
| Stove a thousand degrees, I’ma graduate to a brick |
| Got me gradually gettin chips, all my smokers grabbin a lil' sack |
| of that poison, if you can push it, I’ll give you points on the pack |
| As he had it loaded and wrapped, then they caught him up comin back |
| Took a loss but on the next one I’ll make it back on the tax, nigga |
| Yeah, I gotta sell the nickel bags |
| Elementary mathematics, nigga can you add? |
| Multiply, divide it and go re-up for at least a half |
| Smokers scared to cop cause we beefin, man where the geekers at? |
| Standin by my window with my full clip (full clip) |
| Malcolm told us we’ve been bamboozled and hoodwinked (hoodwinked) |
| Another Darren Wilson get a badge every week |
| R.I.P. |
| to Michael Brown and motherfuck the police, bitch! |
| Uh, yeah… I guess I gotta sell the nickel bags, bitch |
| Uh, uh… yeah, I gotta sell the nickel bags, nigga |
| Uh, real killa, drug deala, I gotta sell the nickel bags |
| Uh, real killa, drug deala, I gotta sell the nickel bags, bitch |
| The same night Chris Childs punched Kobe |
| It was a Sunday, I had the Hyundai |
| Then I crashed it, leather jacket like Slash did |
| Face melted off the acid (melted) |
| I bought forty dimes of the yah-yah |
| (Downtown) bound, (Julie Brown) |
| Know the hoochies wanna do me now, Don Bronson (yeah) |
| In all white like Don Johnson (You know it’s me) |
| You ever had to take a shit while you’re trippin? |
| Balls off, all the homies by the ball court (It's kinda crazy) |
| Shit hit like Little Richard on the boardwalk (Woo~!) |
| I’m not the one for all the small talk, uh |
| I’m like Christopher Lloyd, Big Noyd |
| Big coins, rosemary on the strip loin |
| Mike Tyson doin indos on a Haro |
| Queen send 'em all by the Sbarro, it’s me |
| (Fuck with me) I gotta sell the nickel bags, bitch |
| I’m in the Carmelo with twelve nicks, the L’s lit |
| I’m close to them niggaz that do their bid and don’t tell shit |
| Or far-fetch, them niggaz be doin the long stretch |
| It’s not that we’re heartless, we’re just usin our heart less |
| You know stress cause niggaz to forfeit |
| When I cut it, all my nick/(Knicks)'ll be softer than Charles Smith |
| Lost grips of a nigga that hustled on dark strips |
| And street corners, so many police want us |
| Lookin to feast on us, 'member older niggaz |
| and bitches would sleep on us, suckin they teeth on us |
| I touch down, celebrate like Vic Cruz |
| Spike Lee, got a front row seat to watch Knicks move |
| Got no class like a nigga that skipped school |
| Fix your face 'fore I play the mechanic and grip tools |
| The block gleam every time that a cop scream |
| On the corner sellin Knicks/(Nicks) that’s (Giant) like Hakeem, peace |
| Yo… Looks like they caught me red-handed |
| When I land, niggaz from the planet get stranded |
| And I ran cause I had a pound of Afghani |
| Watch that AK-47 stick up your Grammys |
| .And I want all the ends |
| 'Fore I let the rounds of applause in the audience |
| Fake emcees get clapped up 'til they disorient |
| Get out your seat, chairs up if you want more again, uh |
| The happiest days of my life, been taken from me |
| Now I’m just a slave to the mic — wait, hold up |
| I don’t think this chain fit me right |
| Got a couple loose screws so I write, right brain trippy like… |
| …And I should let you finish too |
| I’m at Finish Line, you shoulda finished school |
| Now you can’t finish lyin, so I diminish you |
| They still get the teeth to show with no dentist tools |