[Intro: Boldy James]
'Chemist, Bo Jack
G.I. back to that one-way
Where we at with it? Uh
227, Blockworks
Let's get it
[Verse 1: Boldy James]
I'm making short-term goals, make the work turn pro (Yeah)
Thought it was a diamond in the rough, just a lump of coal
Snipe a nigga soul, lil' Joseph, he'll up the pole (Pow, pow)
Wipe a nigga nose, for his Rol' and them Buffalos (Slime)
Swiping custos, selling blows, running through them Bose
How you loving those? Never told on none of my bros
I be on the road, ducking patrol, coming through the toll (Yeah)
Tryna keep it low, but Lord knows I need to move this load
Shootin' through the O, on 75, set the cruise control
It's moving too slow? Give it to Taj, he gon' move it whole (Drug store)
It ain't what you know, it's who you know, plug toot his nose
Every time it touch, it put me right back in the Super Bowl (Back in the game)
No, this ain't Kweli, that was Hi-Tech in my juice I poured
On my mama stove with a Pyrex full of sushi roll
I hit it with them ice chips and ramen noodle bowls (Uh)
It harden up and turn into a block, looked like the soup was cold
[Interlude: Freddie Gibbs]
The Los Angeles Firing Squad now must come
Yeah, us original
Sincerely yours, Unfadeable Fred
V12s, yeah
Crime lord, it's the twank, yeah
[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
Ayo, VVSs super froze, coupe ain't got no roof or doors (Nah, nah)
My uncle and his partner test my dope, he got a stupid nose
And lately, I been curving groupie hoes, but I get stupid chose (Bitch)
'Bout to drop a thousand in my 'Rex, I whip the Super Bowl
Them foreign cars, I'm bored with 'em, 'bout to toss that to Lord and them
Fuck a whip, I need a space coupe, me and Doc drop in that DeLorean (Pyoom)
Michael J. Fox jumping out the pot, Michael J. hops
Fuck rap, I can shave rocks, these slave-ass rappers can't drop
Rolex say I'm on my eighth watch; wait, stop (Yeah), seven-figure nigga still hit the stove
While my groupie bitches eatin' Domino's and my Houston hoes getting Pappadeaux
My Dominicano 'bout to drop a load, I don't trust a soul, so a nigga drove (Rrr)
Hit the county, I was in the hole with some Black Stones and some solid foes
I'm checked in, vest in (Yeah), Big Bunny Rabbit don dada (Yeah)
I remember when I seen a rapper do a spot for 1-800-CRIMESTOPPERS
I remember being on the run, smokin' Swisher Sweets up in the Ramada (Yeah)
Crime lord, on Vice Lord, I'm the underground king, Godfather, nigga, what?
[Outro: Boldy James & Earl Sweatshirt]
I wouldn't do it
It's not my calling
It's all a part of the same train of thought process
That's what I'm saying
And that train of thought helps you get talent
It's brainwash, bruh, for real
Yeah
Why so far removed?
From themselves, from they—, they environment
Yeah
From what's right the fuck around them
But they're directly attached to it
Like, violently
Pssh, what?
And emotionally
Preach
That's what I'm telling you
Jail don't make you—, jail don't rehabilitate you
At all
It actually makes you more of a criminal
You said it, bro, that shit is crime school
That shit is a crime school
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