Miles Davis

I autograph my cash and called a cab We on the map (map) back in New York City like a Dodger cap Blu, smooth like blue suede shoes I told my homie, "Improve," I'm Tim Allen with the tools I built my booth, made of jewels, left a hole in the speaker Stepped in the stu', no shoes, but got more soul than sneakers Below the clouds holdin' the crown, a Coke, and a smile But on the humble, word to mumbles, all balls don't bounce Yet a thousand styles flip out when the DJ spins out Hits out, spit back a hundred rounds Pulled the clip out, the most dope Niggas get roached tryna approach the host We lay it down, yo, butterin' toast They make seductions to the pro, most fit To hold his dick and spit A loaded clip to hit the listener's mitt I invent too many patterns to pattern your path after Tell them rappers that we got it mastered, yo Miles Davis Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (the leader) Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (trumpet) Miles Davis It's kinda Blu, but kinda new, colossal too My whole team supreme, it's like a dream come true I thought she new like the words to Brooklyn Zoo how we cook the stu' (stu') Homie my hook up might cut up, you hook your tooth Salute the best of, niggas hear this and drop their best stuff We next up, hop off the deck for your cassette bust You couldn't blow it, Coltrane in the mall Playin' the funk but y'all need to be hangin' it up You cats washed up, cuttin' with vets and got your paws plucked Prison guards couldn't lock ours, get your bars up Bar none, nigga, Jay Barnes get the job done We could be Siamese twins, still my squad won My due, my rent late, I still pay dues I'm too cool, too G, I sing the Ill Street Blues Born in '83, still gettin' it in '82 And ain't a person on earth that could fill these shoes Miles Davis Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles) Mi-Mi-Miles Davis Miles Davis Miles Davis Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles) Mi-Mi-Miles Davis Miles Davis Yeah, uh Ex cut it (cut it) The black trumpet (uh), you couldn't strum it (nah) That instrumental hit, you in your stomach when you run it Crowds plummet tryna touch it The gold on the sound make you run out and crown somethin' It's the best, the next in the West Cover your chest like Muslims cover their neck Truth seekers summon my text, bi-coastal for bifocals It'll knock your trial over You tryna chop with the top chef, try over Who rhyme colder from California? (uh) You catch pneumonia in the city that Biggie wrote rhymes over Blow tweeters out speakers like, "Ether" through your aethers, yeah Eat up receivers with the signal, I'ma leave ya It's the code of the street sweeper, the sleep, sleep Deeper to the hair on my people, beatin' blocks with the single I see you coverin' ass like Utah fans But John Stockton couldn't pass talkin' all that jazz Miles Davis Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles) Mi-Mi-Miles Davis Miles Davis Miles Davis Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles) Mi-Mi-Miles Davis Miles Davis Miles Davis Uh, Miles Davis Miles Davis (cuttin' loose with the band) The leader, trumpet Miles, Miles Davis Miles Davis cuttin' loose with the band Miles Davis Swing, swing, swing Oh, oh