Scum

[Part I]

[Verse 1: Black Milk]
Random, random, push till they fall back
Grabbing the ball back, while I’m grabbin’ the hard hat
Hard act to follow, we the hard pill to swallow
You cotton that sit in an aspirin bottle
Random Axe smash the throttle, grew up where’s ice cold
Where niggas gamble with their life like a dice bowl
This ain’t a light show, but you see them red blues
Flashin’ on the tittie screen, Channel 7 news
Where those lil dudes reach for Rugers
Never surf the internet, never own computers
You know the name, don’t know the face, then he the mover
Whoever’s quietest in the room, then he the shooter
The old heads don’t understand, askin’ how come?
We don’t think like Martin while Malcolm was the outcome
Any means nece-ssary yeah, where I’m from
While I had pops, most grew up without one
All they had was drugs, where the street wars met
Walkin’ out everyday, with the Devil on yo doorstep
Sittin’ on your porch in the post
This the city limit, where you see they have no remorse at

[Hook: Black Milk]
It’s gone, gone, outta the slum
Bang bang, put it in the air
Same thing, seen ya over here, over there
Bang bang, don’t nobody care what you had

[Part II]

[Interlude: Sean Price]
Meanwhile (haha)
We find Sean P
On the toilet rolling a spliff
Fuck is on his mind?

[Verse: Sean Price]
Four-fifth for your face
And yo' faculty fuck boys, forfeit in your face, uh
Shittin’, watchin’ you sittin’ on grapes
Pre-paid, premeditated and murdered the aim, P!
Achin ya kinfolks
A.K.A. the ape in the window (Magilla)
A traffic can indulge ya
A Budweiser African king poster
I’m doin’ my damn thing
Them niggas claim king but ain’t doin’ a damn thing
That’s my word to my moms
I neva heard no one of ya songs, fuck outta here!
And I don’t dislike you
I disliked the dude that said I dislike you
Long kiss, long fist, bitch, goodbye
Can’t fuck with P, new fish to fry, P!

[Part III]

[Interlude]
Times like here, I wasn’t playing
This not for declaration...
If they deal with me, they gotta come right
They got to know their homework and something

[Verse 3: Guilty Simpson]
Once again, it’s Mr. I-Am-Not-Yo-Friend
From the city where it’s commonly a tragic end
They mad again, squeezin’ what they hold to leave a hole in you
Half ass niggas are half again
Mashin’ it, American shit, keep yo foreign cars
They still like they war and odds
They got help waitin’
Two pretty heaters, they named ‘em both
Dropper-Dead-Gorgeous and Breath-Takin’
You’d rather check Satan, inhale while he inhales powder Softwhite
They put it down in the lab like Walt White
Soft fights, is what they give em
Talkin’ workin’ on their off nights
The bar’s tight, they sendin’ nears off on sight, overnight
The fairput cats on your overbite
Sweet cats, I know your life
Bourbon cats, I know your wife
Poet night, shake a house, no Poltergeist
Takin’ flicks and yo stolen nights, the clip’s rollin’ right
Paper chasin’ with this door in sight
Takin’ ten kingpins out, they ballin’ stripes
Show you right where they buried, right and they smoked his pipe
Medicine through a cobra’s bite
I hold the mic with the real concern in the facts
Wait no more, return to the acts, return fire...
Earn a writer when I burn a squire
Self employed, the murder higher...