The Brown Stains of Darkeese Latifah Part 6-12 (Remix) (part. ScHoolboy Q)

Oh, you the motherfucking man, huh?

Oh, you be fucking bitches, counting all the bands, huh?

Oh, you be trapping out the bando selling grams, huh?

Oh, you be smoking, drinking lean, and popping Xans, huh?

You see, that's the bullshit that I don't need

I'm telling y'all niggas, y'all ain't fucking with me

See, I look in the mirror and he said, "You are the man"

And I said, "Hey man, I agree"

Rocks on rainbow, Ben's a nice fellow

Your neck reflects your personality, and mine is yellow

Boy, I hit the block, like I hate Legos

They know they got thirty seconds, Jared Leto

Before they see some halos, and I reload the ammo

Boy is Golf Wang-o, and that's the squad I bang-o

Until I'm fucking Ringo, now let's reload the aim-o

Can't a nigga get some fucking chaos in hurr?

I'm the truth and the dare

And you can get your ass beat like a kick and a snare

Schoolyboy's my niggy, you know I'm good in the 50s

That boy's not that bad, enh, it's no biggy

It's the G-O, the L-F, we go-go, no homo

We black out, and go hard like JoJo and fuckin' Diggy

No ship in this series, and I just want Iggy, man

We been Batmen since Batman had a sidekick

Catch me in some vans like one of them soccer mamas

And them bitches blue like that family went to the Dodgers, solve em (Oh no!)

You can't bitch, I'm a problem

You get fucked up like the thoughts inside of my noggin

Going harder than the quidditch in Harry Potter

All my shows got one black in it like Larry David

And I'm that nigga

Meaning I'm two niggas

I'm schizo, Brent Lowe, my motherfucking bingo

Pink and yellow on my neck remind you of my dickhole

And I don't really fuck with you niggas, shout out to Jim Crow

Don't get offended, love being darkskinned

23 with the crib and I don't got no tenants

And I don't like sports, but the court got a tennis

Is that diamonds on your neck? Stay the fuck out my bidness

See, that's that cherry bomb, get my burr on

That's McLaren, '91 out the Chevron

Motors Flog Gnaw, Vans on, fuck your Jordans

Went from throwing up to throwing carnivals (Yeah, nigga!)

Boy, I'm a sicko, flacko nigga but kinda macho, boy

I got some vatos and shout out to ScHooly, he kinda loco

Pack a de la pistol, we splitting nachos

Then for that cheese, boy, he was using some shells just like a taco

So grab your goggles, nigga

Taco Tuesday, you don't want none of that

Have you heard of Fairfax, boy, we was running that

Nigga took the store from us, yeah, fuck all of that

(Man, he really took the store)

Crack a cracker with a barrel

Gang bang tattoos, this ain't a Louis rag

Orange Paisley got me crip crazy

Pants heavy, sag to the left

With the belt strapped, no face mask, nigga, just toe tags

Still the blunts getting passed, yeah

Ain't worried bout no niggas, nigga

Grieve over suckers, gunpowder on my knuckles

Call the ambulance, I'm from the era of crip walking

You was clown-dancing

You wanna be me, huh?

Cuz is wack when he raps, and what he rap, he ain't done

Top Dawg, Wolf Gang, smell the cat on your tongue

Pussy boy you fucked over, nigga, control your gums

Teeth missing, moms' won't recognize your face when it's done

My square homie's license, double life in my trunk

Mind, power, body, and soul, we break handcuffs

Got a strike on my record, double cups, and duck

You want the life like us, you need to crip that coast

You want to steer that wheel

You want to smoke that kil'

Well who am I?