King Mez - Playskool lyrics

[Verse 1] Over paper with pyramids on their back People hold chrome, with small cylinders attack Bet you that they red octagon you in your tracks Pull off in the whip, with the diamond on the back And the sunroof top, thinking they gon' be a star When their hood get hot, no relation to your car But they won't be going far, they just make up dope dares After L's in their circle, then they start to smoke squares Pentagon chilling, politicians don't care Long as the office with the oval can get the good glares So the king and the queen never really understand Why their hex ain't gone, and this is what the hood bears No hearts, they hate on the living So they try angles, that can hinder our vision Six by eight, rectangular prisons I know we better shape up when making decisions It's like that... [Hook] (And they keeping me boxed in) (And they keeping me boxed in like) (And they keeping us boxed in) (Why they keeping us boxed in like?) [Verse 2] Seven digits for your people with the hammers, man Blam, cannons flash, sixteen in the handle, man One in the chamber that'll shoot, like the camera man When you done, only need three for the ambulance Where I'm from, they rep that five with a pa**ion, man Move white, like avalanche, fiends at a trance They buy the tens and the twenties and the fifties too Cause they only want the highs man, like the Madden stance Uh, now you ready to vacate Cops tried to stop him, the last one ate eight To the face, four five dispersed, and make waste Five-0 get divided like weight to make base, uh Hope they get em a new grind Only reaching eighteen when gripping them two nines Why I want to for? Like star on Lakers Forty ounces instead of acres and yall dudes fine Like that... [Hook] (And they tell me my days numbered) (And they tell me my days numbered like) (And they tell us our days numbered) (Why they tell us our days numbered like?) [Verse 3] My hue, the same as Huey Newton's was Black pride and gold crowns, I'm shooting for Cause all my city need it, I want em on the dean's list And hope they get their vanilla papers to hit the scene with Not for the dutch right, brown paper crutch light Blow purple till the room gray, that's a tough sight When I know they could be read cause they such bright Individuals, people would read if they just write They wanna make your block light up, like Billie Jean Push white through your system, like Midi keys Take green from the victims, with the silver things Make sure that they blew up, by any means Color numbers shape, so the children take rule Hope they take mind, that way they won't have to take tool Uh, we giving you the playskool So you won't play dead when learning to play cool Like that... [Hook] (To all my pretty brown mothers) (Shout out to all my white brothers) (To all my strong black mothers) (They define us by our color like...)