Yeezy Field Boots
Yeezy field boots
I Peel out in coupes
Without the roofs
Ma dukes
Said homicide detectives wearing suits
Came asking for truths
I ain't really got nothing to say
Malcolm clutching his K
With his eyes cutting away
Peeping out the blinds
Death around the corner
Peep the signs
Niggas looking funny
Like fake money
And I ain't buying
What they tryna sell
Cappin hard as hell
But he frail
I felt compelled
To do it for niggas off in them cells
All white like it's Yale
Paraphernal on the scale
Don't get stepped on
Bitch ass nigga you know me well
Mind sharp as a nail
The nine spark if he tell
Cuz the game is deep
Niggas send body parts in the mail
And hold him for ransom
The game ugly
Dat boi Vic handsome
I son a rapper
Like my only grandson
Went from a Chevy
To a fuckin phantom
I'm getting money
That's the fuckin anthem
Got album of the year
Could've bought a Crib
With this chandelier
Hanging around my neck
Across the flyest gear
Top tier
One of the illest you gone ever hear
Them other niggas had they run
And disappeared
The Willie lynch letter was fake
But still it resonate
Field niggas off in the field
House niggas serving plates
Inside the mansion
Showing their teeth
And always dancing
The Niggas got locked in the pen
The earths (black women) advancing
With college degrees
But nobody to marry
Marriage squeeze
She got a good job down town
While I'm moving kis
And ducking the Ds
Until I got locked for centuries
Another single home
The kid don't get the attention that they need
Dam Assata fleed
They broke her out of prison
Now she's freed
Over seas Fidel hid her out
Ain't never leave
She had a nephew
Who became a mc
He blasted 2 cops
They named him 2pac
I grab the 40 out the shoe box
To pay him homage
We speak in code
It's called Ebonics
They took our native tongue
It was the way that we responded
Natural inventors
They gave us scraps
And we made dinners
Offered us love
But every time hidden agendas
Fought in all the wars
Raising their kids
And cleaning floors
Picking cotton with blood on it
From cuts and sores
So this countries yours
Burned down the stores
That we ain't own
Than the house nigga
Looked from the mansion
And said they wrong
Yeezy field boots
I Peel out in coupes
Without the roofs
Ma dukes
Said homicide detectives wearing suits
Came asking for truths
I ain't really got nothing to say
Malcolm clutching his K
With his eyes cutting away
Peeping out the blinds
Death around the corner
Peep the signs
Niggas looking funny
Like fake money
And I ain't buying
What they tryna sell
Cappin hard as hell
But he frail
I felt compelled
To do it for niggas off in them cells
All white like it's Yale
Paraphernal on the scale
Don't get stepped on
Bitch ass nigga you know me well
Mind sharp as a nail
The nine spark if he tell
Cuz the game is deep
Niggas send body parts in the mail
And hold him for ransom
The game ugly
Dat boi Vic handsome
I son a rapper
Like my only grandson
Went from a Chevy
To a fuckin phantom
I'm getting money
That's the fuckin anthem
Got album of the year
Could've bought a Crib
With this chandelier
Hanging around my neck
Across the flyest gear
Top tier
One of the illest you gone ever hear
Them other niggas had they run
And disappeared
The Willie lynch letter was fake
But still it resonate
Field niggas off in the field
House niggas serving plates
Inside the mansion
Showing their teeth
And always dancing
The Niggas got locked in the pen
The earths (black women) advancing
With college degrees
But nobody to marry
Marriage squeeze
She got a good job down town
While I'm moving kis
And ducking the Ds
Until I got locked for centuries
Another single home
The kid don't get the attention that they need
Dam Assata fleed
They broke her out of prison
Now she's freed
Over seas Fidel hid her out
Ain't never leave
She had a nephew
Who became a mc
He blasted 2 cops
They named him 2pac
I grab the 40 out the shoe box
To pay him homage
We speak in code
It's called Ebonics
They took our native tongue
It was the way that we responded
Natural inventors
They gave us scraps
And we made dinners
Offered us love
But every time hidden agendas
Fought in all the wars
Raising their kids
And cleaning floors
Picking cotton with blood on it
From cuts and sores
So this countries yours
Burned down the stores
That we ain't own
Than the house nigga
Looked from the mansion
And said they wrong
Yeezy field boots
Credits
Writer(s): Victor Frazier
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.