Message for the People - The Alchemist, Budgie, Durag Dynasty

Killer Ben mobbing with Big Twin, the verdict’s in

Guilty all accounts for assimilating the illest men

Rep the gods, king murders squads, gooniess to get it in

It’s a Brooklyn Queen’s thing, outsiders we’re boxing in

Cause we frost-slush, bear jacket claws

Crisp corduroy, Armani sweaters from Michael Kors

Times Square when the ball drop, spitting off the top

Sipping out the whiskey flask, dead-ass if I’m drunk or not

People push for supreme niggas who murder cops

And for killers in pink housing, busting shots

Make sure you get right when you approach a mark

If you catch the drop you ain’t gotta shoot or belly talk

I don’t fit descriptions of puzzle pieces that fit in

Don’t respect a system that’s built on slaving and lynching

Enlightened minds, assembly lines, they’re missing vital parts

Soap box, Huey New Glocks fresh out the boondocks

My tune knocks harder than feds raging in early morning

Slipping with that work where you rest, flushing it down the toilet

I’m trying to stack for a Porsche, so each must take the course

Knock on wood, fuck boys thinking that I won’t pop them off

And hitting rappers when Needles thought it was just a cough

Weeks later on his death bed, thinking about dude he crossed

Real niggas do real things, still reinforce

This right here is like word Speakeasy, metaphors

Broad day, witness the other side where the rest at

Pillow talking you with your stock, we don’t respect that

Be the funny faces of targets I wave a tech at

Leave your body slumped like marijuana extracts

Nigga I’m the best at terrorist stealth, calm attacks

So go ahead and embarrass yourself

And it’ll be your very last looking

Heavy landed I land bows expose you to this OG ass whupping

Monster more, more monstrous pan I endure

The more energy the monster absorbs

Magnetic infinite lord, burn out your light bulbs

From turning up, turn up nigga that’s what your life is for

Passport pussy on deck, running through roadkill

More bills from doing songs with nigga with no skills

Verse slick, slide it my way, I’m like «Why not?

If it’s whack it’ll never see the light of the day»

Ayo legendary land shark lacerate literature

When my hand spark, scribble the signature on your landmark

Beat the play clock, multiple strips

When I’m on A-block, the handle in switched to Mookie Blaylock

Wild fire from bird flame to blickie

Outfit is Freeway Ricky but more tricky

One-way traffic, moving through the city with a package

You could smell the money through the plastic

Yeah, black ski-mask, Black leather jumper

Getting tea-bagged by a groupie bitch, Brian Pumper

I’m back, slick-talking over rare grooves, rare tunes

Porno music, middle finger in your rear-view

Banana in your tailpipe, frail type

Catch a shell cause your boasts don’t sound right

Photo finish, a menace with the hashtag

Trending, you can get a credit to the kids, it’s…