Lyrics: Thabang Byl
Music: Thabang Byl
CHilling at Home with my faded blue all stars/
The year is 99 and they burning out a stolen car/
in the street, It's the funeral of a gangster /
tyre screech and the loud cheer like its Langston /
Hughes because a negro was en vogue/
a type of renaissance burning things up in the smoke/
beemer spinning under the plumes cover the sky/
driver got the gat outta window/
Passenger has the thunder thighs/
On the circuit for the last time for another high/
Who you think the chainlink habit getting funded by/
candid jokes, not funny seeing the mother cry
bandit get a victim bundle tied, with vulgar eye/
for some fun summer time/
wolves packs in a pack in the wild hunt for a hunger cry/
To some it's awful but that's who we role modelled/
FUll throttle/ with a coke bottle /
make your idol grovel/
A troop of four, all around 6 foot high/
split the street in half and two of us on each side/
the bruise of being a victim for along time/
wanna gain the respect so fantasize a crime/
Im on the outpost height checking the scenery/
equally cut throat, and the same as robbing and thievery /
One had gold castle on the pinkie ring
Two had a mouth and number 3 had to backitup/
Four was an anomaly, he brought a soundtrack/
and was a cameo, the influence and attitude was set/
Eyes luring at the observable phenotype /
Italian fashion /
The look, that the people like/
We had the pattern and schema file/
in the role of the king you could never subpoenaed by/
Anyone, your peer or equal /
call it a throne game/ and i'm the author of the prequel/