Outer Concept - Day One Brotha ft. Danny G D-Box & The Majedi (prod. by Alex Acebal) lyrics

[Verse 1: Danny G] This sh**'s miraculous I used to beat on pots and pans wanting to sell out arenas and popular stands Making big money moves and copping them grands Envision fans waving their feet and stomping their hands And I was chopping them samps at the age of thirteen A bird better yet a stork dropped me off with a beat machine As a little seed got the influence planted in me So I sprouted to some roots with some culture and weeds And the ones you inhaled and hell couldn't even reach I was so above the ground that you couldn't see me, the D I held my D no confidentiality Just some confidence and pocket cents then dropped reality I began my treasure hunt for this thing that I called my pa**ion Straight k**a no fashion Learning the ropes but k**ing my hopes that I was asking fo' f**in' with the forces that I know I can't control And I know that I can't be selfish we just tryna get by My homie is literally living the struggle tryna survive And I get it it's part of the cycle we supposed to abide by But f** it f** the system bro continue to ride high One day brotha, yeah, one day we gonna make it Today is the day that we break away from the patience Happy faces celebration jump as high as you can Just remember the first day when it all began If you've never had a problem go and yell f** my life! Never made a mistake, go ahead and yell f** my life! This gangsta sh** wasn't easy but that's what made this sh** fun Never tell yourself it's over and done [Verse 2: The Majedi] b**h it's miraculous when the f** you gonna learn We spitting vulgar rhymes that make your stomach churn The doom looms while I'm tripping on shrooms Sweeping up the competition with an army of brooms I'm some kind of plague I keep spitting out locusts I rocks you in the brain leave ya eyes out of focus Hocus pocus you are now my b**h Something like a rash but you can't cure the itch Spitting on the mic because it's what I do best Spitting bullets better bring a bulletproof vest Mike Tampon's whack won't cut him no slack You can be fat boy you barely a snack Going hard like the Spartans that were at Thermopylae Wise beyond my years I'm like a younger Socrates When I smoke a lotta trees my eyes look like apostrophes And I don't spit bars I just share philosophies Somebody grab a fiddle cause I'm bout to spit a riddle The sky is crashing down and I feel like chicken little Bang the hammer like Thor getting head from a who*e I can never be content because I always want more I've smoked so much blunts with Goodman and Fetti We are the champions without vocals like Freddie Breaking like the Levi getting high in Bryon's Chevy Don't collapse under pressure cuz no title is to heavy