Lyrics Knicks Remix - Madlib, Freddie Gibbs, Action Bronson

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