Late 808

You can plan a pretty picnic
But you can’t predict the weather

The early bird will get the worm, and drink it with Tequila

You gotta shake it off

cause the lovin ain’t the same

and you keep on playing games

like you know I’m here to stay.

I don’t rap, I illustrate

I don’t paint pictures, I picture-paint

See in my hood, there ain’t really much to eat

Popeye’s on the corner, McDonald’s right across the street

All this talk about guns and the drugs pretty serious

But look at what they feeding y’all, that’s what’s really killing us

Here I am again, again

Overwhelming feelings

A thousand miles away

Your ocean home

Part of me is near

Thoughts of what we were invade

The miles that stand between

You can’t separate no

You’re all I hoped you’d become

Sister, I see you

Dancing on the stage of memory

Sister, I miss you

Six feet under the ground and I still look around

I thought you were my friend, but where are you now?

Hell of a long way from equal is how they treat us

Body of a builder with the mind of a fetus

Turn on the television and see the vision they feed us

And I wish I could erase that, face facts

When I’m in the coupe I feel like I’m in a cocoon

We are always running for the thrill of it, thrill of it

Always pushing up the hill, searching for the thrill of it

On and on and on we walk calling out, out again

Never looking down I’m just in awe in what’s in front of me

I’ve been workin’ this grave shift and I ain’t made s***

I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly past the sky

I swag when I surf

Now watch me surf and swag

Used to work the grill, fatburger and fries

Then I made a mil and them psychics was liars

Now, how many crystal balls can I buy and own

Humble old me had to flex for the fogs

Down in Muscle Beach pumpin’ iron and bone

Bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone

Yeah, bumpin’ oldies off my cellular phone

That’s my best friend, that’s my best friend

Is a house really a home when your loved ones is gone?

I’m kicking rhymes til the A.M. vultures swarm

Rich Forever getting more bands

I just pulled up in a foreign, damn

Look me in my face,

I ain’t got no worries, I ain’t got no worries, I ain’t got no worries

It do not matter

Turn to a savage, pocket got fatter, she call me daddy

If it ain’t foreign then it’s boring

Real g’s move in silence like lasagna

You don’t know how little you matter

Until you’re all alone

In the middle of Arkansas

Times have changed… and it’s cool to look bummy

I know it’s strange

But my brain’s gone really insane

And I’m off the chain

Sipping on a fifth of the Golden Grain

Ask about me

I’m going bust a move

Rick James

33 chains

Old Chanel

Cruising Biscayne

Top off

That’s a liability

Hit the gas

Boosting my adrenaline

Don’t move too fast I might shoot you (huh?)

Draco bad and boujee (Draco)

I’m always hangin’ with shooters (brrah)

Might be posted somewhere secluded (private)

Still be playin’ with pots and pans, call me Quavo Ratatouille

I’m in my happy place posted, I ain’t frown since ’06

I ain’t cried since ’01, my pad like Six Flags and your house is no fun

You can come back to mine though, your friend ain’t cute but it’s fine though

We gon’ end on a high note

I’m a monster, everyday is Halloween

Early to rise, so wake way before daybreak

Meditating on the steps I take

I realize there’s a lot at stake

So I enterprise while trying to stack papes

But I recognize that it ain’t easy

So I organize with my P.N.C

I shatter dreams, like Jordan, assault and batter your team

Your squadron’ll be barred from rap

Like Adam and Eve from the garden

I’m carving my initials on your forehead

So every night before bed

You see the BP shine off the boardhead

Reverse that

Oh, it’s just me, myself and I

Solo ride until I die

‘Cause I got me for life

(Got me for life, yeah)

Oh, I don’t need a hand to hold

Even when the night is cold

I got that fire in my soul

I need a fast car, candy coated red

Drive me all night, and park it in my bed

The anticipation arose as time froze

I starred off the stage with my eyes closed and dove

Into the deep cosmos

The impact pushed back, the first five rows

But before the raw live shows

I remember I’s a little snot-nosed

Rocking Cazal goggles and Izod clothes

Learning the ropes of ghetto survival

Peeping out the situation I had to slide through

Had to watch my back, my front, plus my sides too

She yelling that selling a sin

Well, so is telling young men that selling is a sin

If you don’t offer new ways to win

Wake up to the mathematics of an erratic rap

Rejuvenator of rhyme, that sort of come automatic

Poetical medical medicine for the cerebellum

I divert em and flirt em insert em then I repel em

A breakdown, poetical shakedown

Fifty-two pick-up a stick-up so get on the floor facedown

The ammo to keep the people steppin

Breaking open the vault because I’m like a verbal assault weapon