Joey Bada$$ (joey Bada**) - Knicks (Remix) lyrics

[Produced by Madlib] [Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs] Chillin' in the 6 Smokin' the Cali, ice bucket challenge on my wrist Young and black in the US, it's a challenge to exist Stove a thousand degrees, I'm a graduate to a brick Got me gradually gettin' chips All my smokers grabbin' a sack of that poison If you can push it, I'll give you points on the package As he had it loaded and wrapped, and they call him, I'm comin' back Took a loss but on the next one I'll make it back on the tax, n***a I got it sellin' nickel bags Elementary mathematics, n***a can you add? Multiply, divide it and go re-up for at least a half Smokers scared to cop cause we beefin, man where the geekers at? Standin' at my window with my full clip Malcolm told us we've been bamboozled and hoodwinked Another Darren Wilson get a badge every week R.I.P. to Michael Brown and mothaf** the police, b**h [Hook: Freddie Gibbs] I guess I got it sellin' nickel bags I got it sellin' nickel bags Real k**er, drug dealer I got it sellin' nickel bags Real k**er, drug dealer I got it sellin' nickel bags [Verse 2: Action Bronson] Same night Chris Childs punched Kobe It was a Sunday, I had the Hyundai Then I crashed it, leather jacket like Slash did Face melted off the acid I bought 40 dimes of the yia-yia Downtown Brown, Julie Brown Know the hoochies wanna do me now Don Bronson, in all white like Don Johnson You ever had to take a sh** while you're trippin'? Balls off, all the homies by the ball court sh** hit like Little Richard on the boardwalk I'm not the one for all the small talk I'm like Christopher Lloyd, Big Noyd Bitcoins, rosemary on the strip loin Mike Tyson doin' endos on a Haro Queens Center mall by the Sbarro [Hook: Freddie Gibbs] [Verse 3: Ransom] I'm in the car, mellow with 12 nicks, the L's lit I'm close to them n***as that do their bid and don't tell sh** Or far-fetch, them n***as be doin' the long stretch It's not that we're heartless, we just usin' our heart less You know stress cause n***as to forfeit When I cut it, all my nicks'll be softer than Charles Smith Lost grips of a n***a that hustled on dark strips And street corners, so many police want us Lookin' to feast on us Remember older n***as and b**hes would sleep on us s**in' their teeth on us I touch down, celebrate like Vic Cruz Spike Lee, got a front row seat to watch nicks move Got no cla** like a n***a that skipped school Fix your face 'fore I play the mechanic and grip tools The block gleam every time that a cop scream On the corner sellin' nicks that's giant like Hakeem, peace [Hook: Freddie Gibbs] [Verse 4: Joey Bada$$] Looks like they caught me red-handed When I land, n***as from the planet get stranded And I ran cause I had a pound of Afghani Watch that AK-47 stick up your grammys And I want all the ends For my n***as rounds of applause in the audience Fake MC's get clapped up 'til they disorient Get out your seat, cheers up if you want more again The happiest days of my life been taken from me Now I'm just a slave to the mic, wait, hold up I don't think this chain fit me right Got a couple loose screws so I write Right brain trippy like..... And I should let you finish too I'm at Finish Line, should have finished school Now you can't finish lyin', so I diminish you They still get the teeth to show with no dentist tools [Hook: Freddie Gibbs]