THE BROWN STAINS OF DARKEESE LATIFAH PART 6-12 (REMIX) [feat. ScHoolboy Q]

Oh, you the motherfucking man, huh?

Oh, you be fucking bitches, counting all the bands, huh?

Oh, you be trapping out the bando, selling grams, huh?

Oh, you be smoking, drinking lean, and popping Xans, huh?

You see, that's the bullshit that I don't need

I'm telling y'all ****, y'all ain't fucking with me

See, I looked in the mirror and he said, "You are the man"

And I said, "Hey man, I agree"

Rocks on rainbow, Ben's a nice fellow

Your neck reflects your personality, and mine is yellow

Boy, I hit the block like I hate Legos

They know they got thirty seconds, Jared Leto

Before they see some halos and I reload the ammo

Boy is Golf Wang-o, and that's the squad I bang-o

I tell my fucking brain go, now let's reload the aim-o

Can't a **** get some fucking chaos in hurr?

I'm the truth and the dare

And you can get your ass beat just like the kick and the snare

ScHoolyboy's my niggy, you know I'm good in the fifties

That boy not that bad, eh, it's no Biggie

It's the G-O, the L-F, we go-go, no homo

We black out and go hard like JoJo and fuckin' Diggy

No ship in this series since I pissed off Iggy, man

Been that man since Batman had a sidekick

Catch me in some Vans like one of them soccer mamas

And them bitches blue like the family went to a Dodger, solve 'em (Oh, no)

You can't, bitch, I'm a problem

And you'll get fucked up like the thoughts inside of my noggin

Going harder than the quidditch in Harry Potter

All my shows got one black in it like Larry David

And I'm that ****, meaning I'm two ****

I'm schizo, brim low, mind motherfucking been gone

Pink and yellow on my neck remind you of my dickhole

And I don't really fuck with you ****, shout out to Jim Crow

Don't get offended, love being darkskinned-ed

Twenty-three with a crib and I don't got no tenants

And I don't like sports, but the court got a tennis

"Is that diamonds on your neck?", stay the fuck out my business

See, that's that Cherry Bomb, get my burr on

That's McLaren, '91 out the Chevron

Motors Flog Gnaw, Vans on, fuck your Jordans

Went from throwing up to throwing carnivals (Yeah, ****!)

Boy, I'm a sicko, Flaco **** but kinda macho, boy

I got some vatos and shout out ScHooly, he kinda loco

Pack a de la pistol, we splitting nachos

Then for that cheese, boy, he give you some shells just like a taco, so grab your goggles, ****

Taco Tuesday, you don't want none of that

Have you heard of Fairfax? Boy, we was running that

**** took the store from us, yeah, fuck all of that

Man, he-he really took the store

Crack a cracker with a barrel

Gang bang tattoos, this ain't a Louis rag

My Orange Paisley got me crip crazy

Pants heavy, sag to the left

With the belt strapped, no face mask, ****, just toe tags

Still the blunts getting passed, yeah

Ain't worried 'bout no ****, ****

I don't grieve over suckers, gunpowder on my knuckles

Call the ambulances, I'm from the era of crip walking

You was clown-dancing, you wanna be me, huh?

Cuz is wack in his raps, and what he rap, he ain't done

It's Top Dawg, Wolf Gang, smell the cat on your tongue

Pussy boy, you fucked over, ****, control your gums

Teeth missing, moms won't recognize your face when it's lump

My square homie's license, double life in my trunk

Mind, power, body, and soul, we break handcuffs

Got a strike on my record, double cups, and duck

You want the life like us, you need to crip that coast

You want to steer that wheel, you want to smoke that kill

Well, who am I?