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zaheer, the 90s baby - r.i.p jayden كلمات الأغنية

this is just a rough draft
to be completed and touched up
thnx

i just thought this beat was cold
second cousin’s uncle phoned
put his -ss on hold
all of yall are fake, it’s emperical
a year ago, you weren’t calling me
now your -ss imploring me to help you out with a couple a bills
cos you know my cousin has a couple mills
friend request from uncle phil
you know i knew your mother?
i knew your father like a brother
where were yall when he died
just like all the others
how the f-ck you even get my f-ckin number
archive yo’ -ss
i know you desperate because of apartheid, it’s sad
it put is in this position
don’t be thrown off by my lightskin disposition
so listen, i’m getting fed up with all of the sneak dissin
walk up through your trap with the modifieds
and turn your whole hood into columbine
keep talking crazy, and your life end up compromised
i wanna tell you a story about my first homicide
juvenile jit with gang affiliations
down the street, a n-gga making dangerous accusations
put my homie in a court room on two counts of marijuana possession
was ready to forgive, until i heard about the girl that he molested
disgusted, without a question, i went and i grabbed my smith n’
k!lled that n-gga, and his producer too
murdered while he was recording, slumped in the booth
i don’t mean to be a sleuth, like f-ckin sherlock homes

and i didn’t mean for this to, drag on
like season 8 of game of thrones
but all n-ggas sound the same, all yall n-ggas clones
here is a bit of advice for you
it is not scary unless you say “boo”
pink dreads on your head, you can call me goku
stealing the flows of those who stiff and froze six feet below
the goats, just know, that will never be you
ain’t no rules in the jungle, see my flows are nasty
expose the fact that your nose had rhinoplasty
markquez santiago, you plead guilty in trial
since i shot that ch0m- dead, it’s been a while
i don’t kid around, i don’t f-ck with (pedofiles)

just give me time to recollect, to reconnect with the old me
in retrospect, i remember that once someone told me
“little homie, only thing that matters is respect”
if only, he didn’t get two slugs shot right through his neck
he’d still be living below me, in our apartment complex
but where others see projects, i see prospects
don’t expect not to get stung, put ya hand into the wasp’s nest
i need respect indeed
i guess it start introspectively, i’m part of the problem
way we treating women like objects
if they got pair of t-ts, and some -ss
we give them the checkmark
making them self-conscious of their curves and of their stretchmarks
i guess not
i’m off that

i wanna cop a sp-ce ship to be honest
blast off in sp-ce, like a comet
and that’s just me being modest
or it might be the chronic
spoke to my doctor about it
something bout being pneumonic
said listen
i’m on another type of time
if i could i time travel to another ti- a time
queensbridge, 1989
nas, mobb deep, back when rap was at it’s prime
maybe make a record with big and dirty b-st-rd
comin at yo neck, wu tang style, my face is plastered
all over the city, on the block
the air is chilly, that cliché new york sound
blow out ya kidneys
smoking flocka on ya tombstone
puffing clouds just like a chimney
cos ain’t no such things as halfway crooks
n-ggas too busy making catchy hooks
never putting mind into they bars
trap is the worst thing to happen to black teens
since, crack and cigars
i don’t know if i agree with that statement boss
if you test my power
i’ll get you hit with the tommy
k!ll you off
leave you dead in ya car
like kanan was

pinning blacks and whites against each other
like a grandmaster
you can string me up on the flaming cross
flaming, burns, don’t understand me
i gotta put into laymans terms
lame mans terms
i can’t hear you, the line is breaking up
gotta send it to relations firms
can’t think of anything intelligent to say
so you resort to racial terms
complain about the crime rate
but oh boy, do you love your guns
and ya red caps
literally what i call a “maga”zine
if we got an issue
he nose the closest thing he gots to blowin paper is with a tissue
you a fufu flower boy, i’ll send my bs to pollenate you
violate you
i got magazines, articles, come at me, got an -rs-nal
i’ll send my hitman to holla at you
bring it back
i got magazines, if we got an issue
articles, i got big ones and microscopes
like we dealing with particles
imma clean yo -ss up, but i’m still finna get messy
5 foot 7, your life a short story, i’m living essays
bring it back
i’m living essays, i speak for the streets, this the language i speak, just use your common sense
if you can comprehend that
i’m living essays, but this ain’t creative writing

slow down karate kid
i heard you can be a danger fighting
but if you come at me with that
kung fu, one two
imma pull up with arms, and we gon see what them guns do
are you done fool?
all this fake woke sh-t
but you ain’t done sh-t for the black community
just because your father’s who he is don’t mean that you got immunity
if you want some advice
pump you up with hollows
you can catch tips
i’m generous with my gratuity
you father forged your career
it seems like he’s the only black smith
now he better write you a eulogy
come at me, and i’ll smoke your -ss like a cigarette
lying in ya casket when teary eyed jadakiss you goodbye
literally what i call a kiss of death
i’m tired of you biting my sh-t, blood
now i gotta use a mosquito net
i know sometimes my rhymes can be one dimensional
but you r2d2 how tattooine my name on ya torso

- zaheer the 90s baby

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