Freeway - Black Santa lyrics

[Intro:] Black Santa, Black Santa, Black Santa, Black Santa... b**hes, b**hes, vicious style... (Children snoring, voices calling...) Team Early! (Comin' out a happy New Year...) Happy Holidays, Statik Selektah Statik, what up? (Children singing, Santa's bringing...) (Santa's brining lots of cheer...) Black Santa, we here (Ho, ho, ho – ho, ho, ho, ho...) (I have the feeling of Christmas!) Okay! (Hi) [Hook:] It's Black Santa – still deliver the gift to rap fans, but Prior to this, on December 25th, on the morning shift Gave fee nicks to crack addicts It's Black Santa – still deliver the gift to rap fans, but Prior to this, on December 25th, on the morning shift Gave fee nicks to crack addicts [Verse:] Court cases, never ratted – stand-up dudes don't take the stand They sleepin' on me, time to awake your fam' Down the chimney with the semi I came with black 'matics It's Black Santa – still deliver the gift to rap fans, but Way before this, after the Christmas platter My folks played Snakes & Ladders and backgammon Under the tree, filled up, gifts from my grandma Drawers, T-shirts, tube socks from my aunt Those was a little bummy, didn't have a lot of money But I was blessed, I still had both of my parents I feel honored, I still got 'em A few years ago my father took shahada Watched him go to Mecca with Mos Def and Lupe Kingdom of Saudis said don't sweat they goddess Big beard, when we travel people spot us Best flow, but I'm tryin' to keep it modest, I'm a king So I gotta keep it polished, I'm a target, so I gotta keep a burner Learned that from Pac and Chris Wallace I'm from the city where if your sh**'s stylish People follow you home to get your dollars Then y'all shoot it out like wild cowboys Only thing is, they'll never make it to Dallas We from the bottom like the kitchen floor And my flow like it came out the bottle, this sh**'s polished I lost a lot of n***as to the war 'Fore I made a million dollars n***as wind up in the morgue Never got to make it to the awards Never got to go on tour Couldn't even see my two kids born My neighborhood's ridiculous, sicker than Sycamore Down at the district, my face on the picture board Now I got my weight up, my face on the big screen I got my dough right I brought my homies off they triples, I had to clip 'em Them n***as be wantin' more My beard long, my money long A million broke n***as won't get along That's right my beard long, and my bread long Verse sickening, that's what I'm stuntin' on a Christmas song