mankind (sciryl & n8!) – the nature boy lyrics
mankind + “the nature boy”
[emcee(s): !llumin@te and sciryl]
[producer(s): [?]]
[verse 1: !llumin@te]
woo!
clean as a mu’f+cking whistle
blow me if you think it ain’t official. i’m a harlem n+gga
i got fly jeans, it’s in my nature, boy!
i am one with the creator, boy! what i exude
is front page news, you just a paper boy
your poor taste lacks flavor, boy
this is black pride, black excellence, a black tie
f+ck a noose—never ask why. i got the juice
i’m a bad guy, brass ring in my
back side since hulk hogan wants a black eye
i will bring trouble your way. i came up
in n.w.a.—“f+ck tha police”
f+ck the law, f+ck ‘em all—we can both cheat
feeling grand, i’m an og. i understand
what your plan is, n+gga, you ain’t lowkey
it’s sl!ck rick with the rope piece
[verse 2: sciryl]
to the blond+haired white man, why you got them brass knuckles?
why you don’t fight fair? alligator shoes, said the price
is a light grand. paper burn out like
a flare in the night’s air. something on your nose, it appears
to be white, yeah. looks like powdered
sugar. why i heard you lowkey the pusher?
the grapevine said you got the hookups for cook+up
and also the hookup for hookers. the homies think you
got a wire sitting on your chest like a pushup bra
and you lowkey trying to book us, dawg, so what’s up?
you ain’t here, trying to put nothing on me
gold rolly turn to cuffs when i look up, homie. well, i ain’t
in a brawl, but what the og figure+four/for?
the o+z not a digit more, and if
my chi is not feeling wrong, i might get involved
(maybe) nah (nah). walked away, thinking:
don’t get your leg locked in chain gangs and end up doing
fed time for just pot. the jakes ain’t kind to the
young black. the young black game blang+blang. they don’t give a f+ck
if we buck shots or g+ngb+ng. they could care
less if we bus stop or take trains. they don’t give
a f+ck if we puff pot or slang ‘caine—same thing
and by their nature, boys get away with it, but if
booker t. did it, things would just weigh differently
witness to the way the game glitches, to the pain they
inflicted, to the way you could die all over
lane+switching. we rise ‘cause we’re tired. they print that we
riot. we’re dying. they try to deny it like
“shhh, shhh, stop speaking, be quiet. la, la, la, la, la, la”
they don’t want to hear—“la, la, la, la, la”
when we riding, they already say that we violent
we childish, we’re heathens, demons, monsters
we not though. we gleaming, we decent, we modest
we c+cky, we hungry, we fly, we
eating this sh+t ‘til we find out the reason that
there ain’t no season. this garden we started, but
something is growing regardless. all in our nature
we got it, got it (got it), got it (got it)
(woo!) good
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