A.J. Throwback - Proof of ID lyrics

(Intro) Man…when you in the streets, you fit the description…when you on the beats, you don’t…how does that work, man? Oh you wanna see my rap sheet? (BAM BAM!) Oh YOU wanna see my rap sheet? (BAM BAM!) But you questioning my rap sheet? (BAM!) Matter fact, holla at ’em, PATH P… (Verse 1 – PATH P) They don’t want it, they don’t want it, they ain’t tryna get their flows stunted So 100 even when cats get glow from frontin’ They ain’t saying nothin’, they pray the day my delay is comin’ Too many layers, but I’m saying grace and this cake I’m cuttin’ Man it’s somethin’, daps change when they feel their lane’s disrupted Things ain’t the same, they claim lame when the content ain’t destructive Bubble in the club ain’t nothin’ No bottle poppin’, guns bustin’, riding benzes or jumping fences when the feds watchin’ Listen, I don’t move from a mind of no options Or spit the lines of false prophets who wanna define what Hip Hop is, nonsense None of these bustas out here lining my pockets Or could ever check my rhymes and confine all my topics, stop it Do this, say that, maybe try different octaves Ain’t Hezekiah or Kirk but my verse’ll show em who God is The money don’t move me, could care less for the groupies Me and my amigos got Queens far beyond bad and boujee, it’s Brooklyn A.J. pa** the rock, I’ll show em what’s cookin’ Lay the SmackDown on these clowns wantin’ to go round for round Ain’t a battle rapper or backpacker, far from a trapper These actors neglect integrity as a respectable factor When you listen, every bar written be what my heart’s spittin’ Only ghostwriter I know is a PBS show What these cats won’t do for the dough, man I just don’t know But the quotes and my liner notes like making diamonds from coal (Chorus) You need proof of ID when you’re walkin’ through the streets, so It’s no different when you’re talkin’ on the beats When you see that bright light, don’t fight or try to flee Ok son, let me see some ID… (Verse 2 – Naim Brixx) Walked from back of the bodega Copped me a bag of sour Deez, and a pack of Now and Laters Stepped out the door I see Jacob Had to think in a hurry, so I walked pa**ed my foreign In the opposite direction, I’m already Lit Now I’m all the way paranoid, all the way stressing What if they stop me and ask to check for weapons Hammer in the whip, thank you Lord, oh what a blessing I kept stepping, getting my blend on Incognegro, peripheral, they making a U-turn So I walked a little faster, I only got an eighth on me Real criminals they should be after, peep Already out of place, wish I could see my face Tryna out walk Jake Can’t help but to shine, I thought to be myself No less, your dress code is always on fresh yes My stains paint the most cuticles Vocals sync Harmony, bang the most beautiful Bloodline on gifted, subconsciously shape shifting Now I’m a shade bright lighter than Blake Griffin You already My strong arm most Straight than arm steady I’m strutting faster, oh well, they still behind me Saw that I was a G, no need to stop for ID, pig (Chorus) You need proof of ID when you’re walkin’ through the streets, so It’s no different when you’re talkin’ on the beats When you see that bright light, don’t fight or try to flee Ok son, let me see some ID… (Verse 3 – A.J. Throwback) Man, they rolled up as if I’d have a thug-like revolt I’m still seeing white from the flood light a**ault I was only five steps, maybe seven from my home Voice on the megaphone so condemning in its tone like “Mighty late for YOU to be out So since you weren’t smart enough to re-route, then pull that ID out…” I mumbled, “Pig, I’m minding my business” Then thought, “If they beat me, all these people gon’ decline to eyewitness” So I did it, they ran it, they busted out in laughter Asked kinda baffled: “Where you get this manufactured? Says that you’re a rapper, where’s your cars? Where’s your j**els? So rappers nowadays are getting scholarships to school–” More disbelief, something that they’re double, triple checking “A Southeast dude without a blemish in his record Stop playing, no possessions? No concealing deadly weapons? Your pops jaywalked and nearly got himself arrested Digression, you’re uninteresting, no trouble But backtrack, Mr. Backpack, I’m kinda puzzled ‘Cause don’t you rappers battle for some meaning to your reps But you don’t even have a battery or misdemeanor threats? And from these rap sheets, seems you got a lot of flows But what about the open mics, need some more shows For this underworld, seems your attitude is too delightful We won’t even write or cite you…” But I’m like, “Bull… My history of crime ain’t the same as Hustlers with a claim of a reign like Hussein had But in places where the people came as plain mad Cheers for the bars where nobody knew my name at I might be the model for what weirdness is But the game is much bigger than appearances So next time you need to check it I don’t need show you ID when you can see me in the records… (Chorus) You need proof of ID when you’re walkin’ through the streets, so It’s no different when you’re talkin’ on the beats When you see that bright light, don’t fight or try to flee Ok son, let me see some ID…