514

[Produced by OnGaud] [Verse 1: Mick Jenkins] I ain't talkin' Yves Saint Laurent But I'm been on Saint Laurent like a motherfucka Overworked, overlooked, hella red Tell 'em that I'm Type O for the bloodsuckas Leeches I'm 6'5" quit reachin' Nigga's only goal is the gold, tell them Creflo Dollar motherfuckas quit preachin' I've been in the 514, my French gettin' too clean Customs is routine, eatin' hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more Nigga, I've been going through it as of late Lot of people talk what they think that they would have did Like the CTA I keep my patience I ain't in it for the JP Morgan chase, I'm a nice guy Nigga do this look like last place, I'm on Priceline Searchin' for a flight to Montreal Me and Jerry on Saint Laurent I just want a little freedom; don't we all? Don't we all Just, get a little tired of the bullshit they feed us? Serve and protect, like protect your pockets and servin' subpoenas Whole shit a circus and they ain't even serving us peanuts I learned this, back when they was serving us free lunch System 'bout as foul as a free throw Tell me what the fuck a nigga know about a free thought If everything that he thought stem from a remote This is so that he know [Hook] I ain't talking Yves Saint Laurent But I've been on Saint Laurent like a mothafucka I've been in the 514, my French getting too clean Customs is routine, eating hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more I've been in the 514, my French getting too clean Customs is routine, eating hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more I ain't talking Yves Saint Laurent But I've been on Saint Laurent like a motherfucka On Saint Laurent like a motherfucka I've been in the 514 [Verse 2] Peep the passion, the thought he put in is hardly comparable Speaking of parables These days I find myself feeling like Charles Barkley Man, all you niggas is terrible (Terrible) So I just tell 'em, Southside in this mothafucka Got the presence of a housefly Everybody know I'm in this mothafucka You can hear it when you listen And I do it for the fam; Peter Griffin, we got no Megs Ride good, nigga no pegs Free Nation rebels, you need more lead Homie get your weight up You know who I pray to when I wake up, no weapon formed, You don't get spared cause you less informed I'm on my square cause we in a box, burners be like cinder blocks Box sampled finna chop, door push it in the cold You could feel it when a nigga spoke Cause a nigga broke freeing all the feelings of the fickle folk Fuck with me, pour a little passion and put it in your hope Grow a little jasmine and put it in your smoke Blow a little ash, hit and take a bigger toke Bumping Little Dragon, I take a drag thinking damn Hope you see the Simba crashing and a nigga note Hope you see the symbols, hope you Stacey Dash Hope you think quick fast when the trigger stroke Hope you think quick fast, catch my ass in the 514 [Hook] My French getting too clean Customs is routine, eating hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more I mean I ain't talking Yves Saint Laurent But I've been on Saint Laurent like a motherfucka Overworked, overlooked, hella rare Tell 'em that I'm Type O for the bloodsuckas Leeches, I'm 6'5" quit reachin' Nigga's only goals is the gold Tell 'em Creflo Dollar, mothafuckas quit preachin' [Outro] I've been in the 514 (my French getting too clean) I've been in the 514 (my French getting too clean) Shoutout to the 514 Shoutout to the 514 (6'5" quit reachin')