Herbs and roots Mixtape, white tea and only juice Steam pots simmer under zinc roof Law of the land, live and let die I can't seem to grasp time Watching death and how it comes in threes Chilli, garlic, ginger, head spinning, lord willing There's a line, as for me and mine Dark bodies sent to Earth to usher in an unprecedented era Of cosmic regeneration and happiness Mysterious tale The veil's been lifted are you listening? Crooked scales Written in a gentrified art hotel in the motherland Closing the gap between over and understanding Doubling back when the tangent the papers use Duel of the iron mic Never made the news To be seen and not seen at the same time is a mind fuck Black buck Niggas always wanna be the next white somebody Respect the lineage, feel like I shadowbox with simians All in my feelings I kinda write to No photos please, I got warrants Doran vipers with smiles made for pulling the juks No such thing as a halfway crook be the mantra Conjuring man hold my new flow Totem pole always in cold Don't try to keep up Let it take you The phrase "at the end of the day" punctuate damn near everything he say Bitter to the taste somebody's got to pay, his laugh bray like brass Crafts tales of unlikely escapades Talk like a fool, eyes searching your face Knows you think you better Wants you to know you ain't An even layer of burnt cork over the greasepaint You know what comes next You already know the rest You don't need me to tell you You know I need the cheque No respect no respect Propeller hat, jaunty, surely you jest? Yet double back to holler at your aunty Put the work in the bassinet Get worked up over these manuscripts like Jack Torrance Shining, you just rhyming I gave them work like everybody do these assignments Voluble silence in that asylum. Rather than shame They built a monument to the violence Way we play it don't sound nothing like a violin They got the bomb like uptown in '99 You can search far and wide for a hill on which to die The rent's still too damn high Dead bent but still quite spry They got the bomb like the Spike Lee joint So no time to waste, get right to the point The roach is never dead That feeling is dread Those that could fled Laid in the coffin like a bed and each child walked up to kiss his bandaged head Still remember something foul my uncle said Yeah, I'mma carry that to the end