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team backpack - first 48 lyrics

[verse 1: x]
i’ve been the king, get your fix
anything tryna to intervene is at risk
get the cream even if it means ‘hit the l!ck’
i’ve been doing numbers like a triple beam and a brick
man listen, i ham and my screws get loose
to use this booth you gotta solve a rubik’s cube
i’m sk!lled with it; build different; acoustic smooth
i’ve been my only compet-tion since the blueprint²
but they don’t hear me, steady telling lies to the track
speak on your name and then be surprised when you snap
don’t be the n-gga that let his pride, get ’em sn-tched
if you listen close, you can hear the cries through the cracks
they’ll tell you, youngin’ we advice you, relax
you really wanna survive, subscribe to the facts
instead of all this bullsh-t you see online
and i show you how to manipulate what we call time
i really got it, it’s no good look to try me, fam
i pull up like ip man with ali hands
now they wan’ switch they team ’cause kyrie can
i’m still here with my day-ones, i be d-mned
never in my life, better than ‘aight
i pull up at your concert like ‘lemme get the mic’
exaggerating lines off of stuff they’ve seen
i don’t have a problem with these rappers, but they just ain’t me
i mean, d-mn, i really got this sh-t on lock
now, don’t let me find out who put a hit on pac
’cause imma pull it from the coat like a rip-off watch
open the door ‘fore i pick y’all locks
n-gga it’s x!

[verse 2: p-ssionate mc]
i was always on some raw sh-t, f-cking pregnant thots
with the long d-ck till i hit the spot on their baby’s head
where it was the softest, the hardest
you’re looking at the reason why this new generation is r-t-rded
so if bars don’t belong on a song
i more than likely f-cked your mother before you were born
they can blame me, ask the dumb sl-t if my name rings
guess the fruit doesn’t fall far from the same tree
my d-ck game left them lil n-ggas limp brain, insane
how the risk changed to this sick plague
in play for the kids and the hits made
it’s a thick chain with the wrist like a whipped slave, n-gga!
don’t even act like it’s such a surprise
‘cause i’m the type to make you think i’m a wonderful guy!
i’ll take a n-gga that i hate, then run at his side!
make him think i’m his best friend, there ain’t much to disguise!
i’ll even stick through everything, whatever comes to your mind!
it could be the birth of his child, or the one who’s his wife!
showing nothing but love ’til they trust inside
but little do they all know that it’s all covered with lies!
i’m the one who puts the fun in this ride
for the day the revelation is made that i don’t f-ck with his kind…
tie his family up with a gun in the night
just to take the loves of his life right in front of his eyes
i’m the personification of hatred that rhymes in a bas-m-nt
the face of the dominant race in a prominent placement
involved in the matrix evolving from the qualm of it’s nature
with doctors awaiting the reason the thermometers breaking
to feel the pressure rise, two fingers to press your eyes
four fingers for the fist when i press your rise!
now they sit so lovely, schizo currently
gotta ethereum for the cryptocurrency
f-ck a bit coin
i punch harder than johnny cage pulling the split groin
i’m more nuts than sig freud
the power i use, put you on the dark side of the moon
just think of the album cover for pink floyd
i dissect in this spectrum brother!
and divide like prisms divide light into sectioned colors
i’m second to none, sever you then sever your son
they always said that two heads is better than one
can never be done! i just write nicest
mind games like kanye through a midlife crisis
i been liked nicest, been sniped with three night snipers

[verse 3: huey briss]
cry out; words fly out
close friends’ death got me ready to die now
took a life line, no justice, just ice
enemies play nice, but p-ss on your gravesite
living the gang life sh-t is a dub
shorty wanna be a thug, but it’s never enough
war, hate, poverty, all in a pot
mix ’em with some gunshots, you got my block
my youth getting got over streets and signs
when all they really needed was some piece of mind
crying out for love in the form of drugs
weed in a blunt, sh-t, lean in a cup, uh
the streets is a m-th- man, word to kurupt
best friends set you up and then cry with your sons
d-mn, we living in a physical h-ll, look
can’t k!ll abel, ham got noah when he was naked
sh-t is in the bible, i ain’t making it up
best friends turn fake over a couple of bucks
from genesis to revelation
when it’s all said and done i’m still in the conversation
it’s briss

[verse 4: daylyt]
i’m just a man with the vision – kind of problems will he solve
cold, lynched, but will evolve
chem trails, h-ll, i’m sick of the city smog
and now i see god in reverse we gettin’ dogged
wild pigs, that’s the reason i’m still a hog
hammer, i run from the slammer, i’m still a pog
due to, me not having sh-t, i’m stealing hard
need an outlet to energies we still in charge
the dream, from a seed is to get the ball
from a fetus, look what they feed us, we built the farm
bleed us, got all of our real ones locked into building walls
so they bleed us, all of our leaders, they k!lled them all
cletus i had a dream, h-ll naw, i wish i had a beam
when i’m ready to fight fire with fire, prior to fire
men who sprayed my n-ggas, imma spray them n-ggas
i’m just a victim of the struggle
hussle, who they depicted, this the picture of the muscle
ruffle, we pick up picket signs but we have forgotten out our cotton picking minds
see, we came from picking cotton, oh
do you remember the time, n-gga?
oh, but you’re micheal jackson?
oh, i am micheal blackson, oh
man, i can’t get jiggy with this sh-t
i feel like biggie with this sh-t; ’cause we ready to die
i dream death like a freddy surprise, vercetti’s alive
i’m trying to give you a vice city, a gamble
imma give you the dice city, a stab at it
imma give you the nice city, no hood riots
we should go to the white cities, and let it burn
sometimes i feel like an usher, ‘times i feel like a buster
when they coming to rush us, all of us n-ggas hush up
ain’t no freedom of speech, no
we say a word and we get beat in the street, oh
go to jail and get freed by the po’s, oh
that might be the reason we poor
oh no, oh no
i gotta live to k!ll
see the haters; piece of ‘gators we should k!ll
put all that attention on bill cosby, what about harvey weinstein?
got ’em

- team backpack lyrics

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