Yo, Africa holler back Youngin stole the speakers, acapella when we box reefers '97 Acura two-seater, all on the curb, street sweeper Wrinkled wife beater, no heater, passenger seat Reclined off some creeper, hit tic-tock for two liters Bacardi dark, while he sparked the bark, Billy watched for narcs Georgia Ave. swimming with sharks, dipping on back streets It's an art, dirt roads and the sky lark, windows dark counting Deutsch marks, Franks, Pesos, youngins do the limbo for dough Like how low can you go before you face to face with the bones Negroes stayed froze, that the new millennium b-boy pose Face down, you know how it goes, plain clothes Query, drugs, or guns? lift your tongue, they warrants on my lungs Like make it easy son, tell us if you got some, do we look that dumb? Aight, got lyrics in megatons, re-up, dodge and duck VSOP in plastic cups, iced out in plastic cuffs, that's what's up Youngins scared but talk tough, that's how tools get bust That's why Billy knock wood for love, lawyers the only ones Seeing fast bucks, niggas is mostly stuck, searching for Bloody diamonds in the rough, still riding the bus watching my life rust Fisticuffs a dead man's bluff, mom's like enough's enough Damn right, late night with bloody eyesight, I write PennAir tight Shut down open mics or dream pipes, hazy days, weeks blazed Pavlov a page, for every nigga a cage, disgruntled ex-slave Hold twelve-gauge, all hail Billy, rap pays