Lyrics Battle Horn - Passport Rav, BOLDY JAMES

Battle Horn

Lex With The Records
I go by the name Passport Rav
And what it sound like?
I realize a lot of niggas got position from proximity
No-talent havin', lackin' lyrics, no conspiracy (None)
Show chivalry, no bigotry, old niggery
Flow so symmetry, killin' you, no diddly
Squat and lift the whole earth
My plot will twist coal up into stones until your soul burst (Boom)
A universal soul search
I drink a Four Loko, transform into Quasimoto
You might see me, my mental projection in Acapulco (So out there)
You got mad followers with no dough, though;
I can’t relate
I spent too many years with canned food on the pantry plate
Fear’s much stronger than intelligence, no benevolence
Throw your goofy ass on the street with no severance
Halt irrelevance, fuck a job, you out in stitches
Sorry, but we filled that last token negro position
All the chiefs in the kitchen, no belief in the system
Hope the people would listen, call police on your children
These the last days, probably, my peoples will be proud of me
I’d leave the earth today, you driftin' off as a mockery
No Honest John’s, Polycom mics on they body, prob'
Gotta check your arm, legs, neck, fuckin' maricon
Go on, get that body harmed (Uh-huh)
Separate your spirit from your temple like I’m Shang Tsung
Trump’ll blow a battle horn
They called 'em crackers 'cause they used to crack that whip on us
Take the strongest out the crib and whip that Black skin off 'em
Fuck a hashtag, my reparations overdue
Revolutionary music for a chosen few
What it—Passport Rav
It’s Blocks
I was robbed I was robbed as a child of my innocence (a young’un)
Now I’m a God on the mile to the menaces
Me and on the prowl, put the finishin' touches on it
My file ain’t got no blemish or smudges on it (Where we at?)
Who want a feature?
Told 'em, «Send me the budget on it»
The coupe don’t need no key to start, could just push a button on it
The button-up Burberry, only button four buttons on it
Make you the butt of my jokes, then feature Joe Budden on it (Haha)
Puffin' on the strongest weed that Cali had to offer
First time I proposed to Connie, she left me at the altar
Caught up with another drug dealer with a bigger bag
Died from a speedin' bullet, definition of livin' fast
Bank shot off the backboard, call it «kiss the glass»
Zig-Zag-Zig Allah set me on a different path (Off course)
All this money, gotta be careful how I spend this cash
Made a half a mil' off Reggie Miller, no genuine draft
Where we at?
(Game time)