[Billy Woods]

Walking down them same hallways
Seeing them same faces...
Trying to figure out how you ended up back
In the same place you said you weren't
Never going back to...
Well, it ain't like it's a complicated story...

[Privilege]

Name, Boy

[Billy Woods]

William Woods, esquire

[Privilege]

Occupation?

[Verse 1: Billy Woods]

Black survivor, dry goods
Purveyor of that fire
Sometimes minimal wage earner
Menial worker rhyme sayer for hire;
Dodge City, August 1999, hot than a mug
AC broke sweating the time
Waiting for these drugs, biting my nails
Daydreaming weights and scales
Big sales, fuck retail, yadda yadda
Type scheming that'll keep me out of jail
Eating proper
Got half now, so just
Front me 2 of them thangs
So I can take one to the brain
A hundred degrees my nigga
We praying for rain, praying for rain

[Verse 2: Privilege]

Sitting back, last seat of the bus
There's one more chair there
Third for weed by the window
With me in the middle
First occupied by my smirk
With left foot skirting the work
Plus a fat down jacket for these cold winters
Lower Manhattan is chili beans and rock salt
Crack em like lips do, on the foot rest
Just remind me, it's icy where I came from
And freezin where I'm headed
Hoping jake don't find me working
With several years of fed time on my person
Clearing my head of all worser scenarios and situations
Think about wage earners and modern day slave labor
I'd rather brush my teeth, with a rusty razor
Then front and bullshit with all you fakers
I'm a kind bud breaker, stay quiet, with noise makers
Cuz undercover lurk in shadows
They say tomatoes, we move to-ma-toes, and avocados
With the silent bravado

[Billy Woods]

Yo nigga, what's up?

[Privilege]

Yo kid, making movements, son

[Billy Woods]

So what's up though, we down here waiting and shit?

[Privilege]

I'm about to slide to the bunch right now homie...

[Billy Woods]

"Oh word, you ate already?"

[Privilege]

Haha... niggas ate good... ate good... healthy niggas...

[Billy Woods]

Word word word, aight that's what I like to hear, man
I'mma be down there to pick you up from the station...

Looking out my window, mid-afternoon
Thinking he better be here soon
Blowing my last piece of endo
Children in front the building dealing boom
Like they never heard of the goons
The federali's playing got you in the zoom
Can't blame the youth streets is dry as a moot!
Corner store lucy in the mouth uncouth
Blood puts in the proof when they shoot
Eyes numb but that same playstation thumb
Can cock the gun!
Cuz if we ain't getting out the slums
Then why should you?
If the weeds blue, keep that to yourself
If you value your health
Back to the business at hand
Crush out my stog
Already count those grams in my hand
Hop in the '86 buick, grab my man
And get this bread
Patient as a sleeper cell
Better to rule in hell, jo-jo
Out here that show and tell
Will have jake ringing your doorbell slow