Lyrics Message for the People - The Alchemist, Budgie, Durag Dynasty

Message for the People

Killer Ben mobbing with Big Twin, the verdict’s in
Guilty all accounts for assimilating the illest men
Rep the gods, king murders squads, gooniess to get it in
It’s a Brooklyn Queen’s thing, outsiders we’re boxing in
Cause we frost-slush, bear jacket claws
Crisp corduroy, Armani sweaters from Michael Kors
Times Square when the ball drop, spitting off the top
Sipping out the whiskey flask, dead-ass if I’m drunk or not
People push for supreme niggas who murder cops
And for killers in pink housing, busting shots
Make sure you get right when you approach a mark
If you catch the drop you ain’t gotta shoot or belly talk
I don’t fit descriptions of puzzle pieces that fit in
Don’t respect a system that’s built on slaving and lynching
Enlightened minds, assembly lines, they’re missing vital parts
Soap box, Huey New Glocks fresh out the boondocks
My tune knocks harder than feds raging in early morning
Slipping with that work where you rest, flushing it down the toilet
I’m trying to stack for a Porsche, so each must take the course
Knock on wood, fuck boys thinking that I won’t pop them off
And hitting rappers when Needles thought it was just a cough
Weeks later on his death bed, thinking about dude he crossed
Real niggas do real things, still reinforce
This right here is like word Speakeasy, metaphors
Broad day, witness the other side where the rest at
Pillow talking you with your stock, we don’t respect that
Be the funny faces of targets I wave a tech at
Leave your body slumped like marijuana extracts
Nigga I’m the best at terrorist stealth, calm attacks
So go ahead and embarrass yourself
And it’ll be your very last looking
Heavy landed I land bows expose you to this OG ass whupping
Monster more, more monstrous pan I endure
The more energy the monster absorbs
Magnetic infinite lord, burn out your light bulbs
From turning up, turn up nigga that’s what your life is for
Passport pussy on deck, running through roadkill
More bills from doing songs with nigga with no skills
Verse slick, slide it my way, I’m like «Why not?
If it’s whack it’ll never see the light of the day»
Ayo legendary land shark lacerate literature
When my hand spark, scribble the signature on your landmark
Beat the play clock, multiple strips
When I’m on A-block, the handle in switched to Mookie Blaylock
Wild fire from bird flame to blickie
Outfit is Freeway Ricky but more tricky
One-way traffic, moving through the city with a package
You could smell the money through the plastic
Yeah, black ski-mask, Black leather jumper
Getting tea-bagged by a groupie bitch, Brian Pumper
I’m back, slick-talking over rare grooves, rare tunes
Porno music, middle finger in your rear-view
Banana in your tailpipe, frail type
Catch a shell cause your boasts don’t sound right
Photo finish, a menace with the hashtag
Trending, you can get a credit to the kids, it’s…