Checks

Intro:

Oh, man, yo, yo, you ever had that perfect talent (I do), that got so fucked up (yeah), and formed the stash spot?
- I definitely did
I wish I could afford, man, yo, I would
Fuck, yo, ayo, yo

Verse:

Toothbrush and Bleach
Tired eye, my black sheets pink from scrubbin' sneaks
Scrape the scrat scuffle
Stash coke 20s in them VaporMax bubbles
Air's maxed out, and beat to death
I need them checks, I'm not even really a sneakerhead (Nah)
Dab in the land o' lakes
Rock them Applewhite Cortezes in Santa Fe
Some pairs got, pockets for plush racks
Dark green Retros match the mint black Dust Packs
Bate's whole collection, Dabby on board
Fresh kicks (fuck) sneakin' like new wax on a ball court
Drop acid and run up in the Waldorf
Black and brown Air Forces lookin' like sawed-offs (Hahaha)
Nah, I'm not into kicks
But DMT tan checks over paisley cinnamon (Wow)
First pair got, hit by virginity's first come
When I was 5 years old, I had Smurf ones
Man, I swear that Jones beat church some
Walkin' around heated after the first scuff (Fuck, fuck!)
'90s weekend, night before Halloween
Runnin' from cops, black Air Maxes and shavin' cream
Make grades in VHS tapes
Dust the clutchin' chestplate, puked on the red grapes
Ewwww
Yo, yo, yo, would've thunk those dunks could hold butt in tacts
Slit the tongue stuff in tabs, kicks become a trap (Word)
Red bottom, no blood clots, open box
My closet gonna look like, Jim Jones' garage
I want shatterin' tons, by the metric
Air Zoom Super Repent loser like a bad hit
No sock sweatin', they took my laces during hospital check-in
Yo, these boots were made for jettin'

Outro:

- A lotta people will tell you that cocaine not only will get you high, but will take your performance to a different level. But in this case the higher you go, the closer you get, to the bottom
- I'm judgin', man!
- (Whispering) [?] the transition came every games in battle every day is war