Georgia Ave. 3:07 AM

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