Super Chron Flight Brothers - Drought lyrics

[Billy Woods] Walking down them same hallways Seeing them same faces... Trying to figure out how you ended up back In the same place you said you weren't Never going back to... Well, it ain't like it's a complicated story... [Privilege] Name, Boy [Billy Woods] William Woods, esquire [Privilege] Occupation? [Verse 1: Billy Woods] Black survivor, dry goods Purveyor of that fire Sometimes minimal wage earner Menial worker rhyme sayer for hire; Dodge City, August 1999, hot than a mug AC broke sweating the time Waiting for these d**, biting my nails Daydreaming weights and scales Big sales, f** retail, yadda yadda Type scheming that'll keep me out of jail Eating proper Got half now, so just Front me 2 of them thangs So I can take one to the brain A hundred degrees my n***a We praying for rain, praying for rain [Verse 2: Privilege] Sitting back, last seat of the bus There's one more chair there Third for weed by the window With me in the middle First occupied by my smirk With left foot skirting the work Plus a fat down jacket for these cold winters Lower Manhattan is chili beans and rock salt Crack em like lips do, on the foot rest Just remind me, it's icy where I came from And freezin where I'm headed Hoping jake don't find me working With several years of fed time on my person Clearing my head of all worser scenarios and situations Think about wage earners and modern day slave labor I'd rather brush my teeth, with a rusty razor Then front and bullsh** with all you fakers I'm a kind bud breaker, stay quiet, with noise makers Cuz undercover lurk in shadows They say tomatoes, we move to-ma-toes, and avocados With the silent bravado [Billy Woods] Yo n***a, what's up? [Privilege] Yo kid, making movements, son [Billy Woods] So what's up though, we down here waiting and sh**? [Privilege] I'm about to slide to the bunch right now homie... [Billy Woods] "Oh word, you ate already?" [Privilege] Haha... n***as ate good... ate good... healthy n***as... [Billy Woods] Word word word, aight that's what I like to hear, man I'mma be down there to pick you up from the station... Looking out my window, mid-afternoon Thinking he better be here soon Blowing my last piece of endo Children in front the building dealing boom Like they never heard of the goons The federali's playing got you in the zoom Can't blame the youth streets is dry as a moot! Corner store lucy in the mouth uncouth Blood puts in the proof when they shoot Eyes numb but that same playstation thumb Can co*k the gun! Cuz if we ain't getting out the slums Then why should you? If the weeds blue, keep that to yourself If you value your health Back to the business at hand Crush out my stog Already count those grams in my hand Hop in the '86 buick, grab my man And get this bread Patient as a sleeper cell Better to rule in hell, jo-jo Out here that show and tell Will have jake ringing your doorbell slow