.B.: We chop it up in cinderblocks, spin it round. Show you how to kick it with Dante. A carmelistic pilot is only a entrée. We blazing in the attic serving eagles to hombres. A novelist artistry, more importantly unscathed. We made it through the murder hall where crackers are sautéed. Niggas still caught up in a trap with one leg. Searching in the dark, still blinded by sunrays. We analyze.
Chorus: Sell Coke To White Folks
Toot that shit. Light that shit. Snort it.
L.M.: Collared based Basquiat. King model Hottentot. Blood money-hooked nose knows no honor's stock. Chisel Carter bricks. No jumpshot charisma. Living Clipse b-sides. Call it Black nihilism. Like, 18 to 1 later, chemistry and cheap labor. Walking on ether built a drawbridge of R.I.C.O. cases. Post-race flavored human shield of public defenders. Hope in a foxhole away from miss class dementia.
S185 : June Cleaver coke song; swapped it for apple pies. Split screen the Golden Age: Wally distant. Just the image of his mother’s fuck labor for party favors! Ward wears the laugh mask to abstract manhood to the neighbors. Beaver’s left to watch her relive youth through absence. Beach body cometh. Cumming spotlights the struggling. Blue eyes sunken. Once tucked sons in monochrome with the same hands that exchange cash after swallowing.
M.E. : Let the bass rock like dome knocks from Dun Dutta Man. Sun in hand, making back alley deals with Cunningham. First glimmer of blue shimmer I do the running man. Chalky love blue flame old player new game. Moving smooth as Bruce Wayne, while sold souls stand outside begging for loose change. Just for a jug of jungle juice to stimulate the right brain. But it all sounds the same when your stuck up in this game ‘cause I
supported by 9 fans who also own “Sell Coke To White Folks (Montana Macks Remix)”
a blend of lyric majesty ontop of a cachophony of sounds that stir my soul's intent into question?im serious .love love love this melodic poet. cafriner