6 Summers

(album: Oxnard - 2018)

Wait a minute!

Trump's got a love child and I hope that bitch is buckwild
I hope she sip Mosca-, I hope she kiss senoritas and black gals
I hope her momma's El Salv, I hope her poppa stick around, yeah

Take chains off, take rangs off
Bracelets and things, big aches and pains
My jack rang off with clickbait
Truth is too raw, it's a fish plate
Fay-Lay, the kunte
A hunnid and fifty of us on the big stage?
How long it took a nigga just to get paid?
And now I think I'm 'bout to buy a Bentley, pronto
I'm in LA with the shaker and bongo
I heard your tape, do or die, it was compo
Trimming the bream with the blade and lawnmow'
Figure it out, nigga
Bitch, don't spill my sake
You gon'make me kick you out this 'partment
You gon' have to kick it in the lobby
Damn, but don't somebody stop me, I'm sloppy

Trump's got a love child and I hope that bitch is buckwild
I hope she sip Mosca-, I hope she kiss senoritas and black gals
I hope her momma's El Salv, I hope her poppa stick around, yes, Lord

The revolution will not be televised but it will be streamed live in 1080p on your peabrain head in the face ass mobile device, alright!

This shit gon' bang at least six summers from out that rock you been under
Mummy wrapped, duffel bag, gutter bunny
It's hard to stomach cold murder
It's easier to get a nine millimeter
He was nineteen with a burner, they had to off 'em
Reform, reform shoulda came sooner

Wait a minute!
This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
(Summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers)
Word!
This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers
They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother
Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter
Reform, reform shoulda came sooner

Come on
This shit gon' bang at least six summers
Pop the top, that bitch hot than a motha
We need peace and less long gunners
Put down your heat and smoke marijuana
Pop the lock off your muzzle
Niggas is dying like lost files in the shuffle
We know you lying, my nigga, naw, we don't trust you
We know you buy to sell it back to the public
'Cause there's money to made in a killing spree
That's why he tryna start a war on the Twitter feed
Somebody take this nigga's phone, is you kidding me?
Take them AKs up outta these Inner City streets

This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers
They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother
Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter
Reform, reform shoulda came sooner

And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
Get the Coltrain and the Kobain
And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
Get the Coltrain and the Kobain

Dear Mr. President, it's evident that you don't give a damn
Shi-Tell me something that I don't know
All this fucking evidence and if it ever make it to the stand, shi-you know they gon' let 'em go, bro
You was overseas stealing niggas' land and oil
Billy copped the Desert Eag and it's legal to tote it
Lil' nigga bullied out his Pumas but why he have to shoot the whole school up?

And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
Get the Coltrain and the Kobain
And so I smoke, drink, just to cope with the pain
Get the Coltrain and the Kobain

This shit gon' bang at least six summers
Word!
(Summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers, summers)
This shit gon' bang for at least six summers
But ain't shit gon' change for at least three summers
They tryna kill a nigga faith, we need a little truth, brother
Pop-pop-pop goes the shooter
Reform, reform shoulda came sooner