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letra de ronnie drake - black hippy

so don’t call me a n-gga, unless you call me “my n-gga”
i’m a king, o.e. be slipping, falling from my chalice
don’t mind the bumpers that be missing from my carriage
it’s poorly tinted, but my women not embarr-ssed
i came to bury you average, you feel slighted
it’s like she know that i got it, it feel like it
i real life it, i spill vices
you will like it, i promise it’s trill vibing, i’m honest
n-gga ain’t no getting money on that conscious sh-t
i’mma just load my gat on some survival sh-t
and when i hear they got a drought on it
i take a month out of rap and i hustle ’til i’m out of it
i got that c0ke flow, that heat rock
i got that old school, huddle ’til the beat box
baby, i’m just digging in your gushy for the sweet spot
i’mma beat that, ’til that mothaf-ckin’ beat drop

i got love for my n-ggas, my k!llers
my dealers, my trickers, my bros
i got love for my sisters, my women
my b-tches, my strippers, my hoes

hope they don’t k!ll you cause you black today
they only feel you when you p-ss away
the eulogy be so moving, we live the scenes of those movies
conflicts in school or dope moving, it’s so youthful
but if you die today, i hope you find some relief
in what a great escape, we still dodging from polices
when we make a plate, they be lying searching in my bucket
with the straightest face, it could be eighty eight
sometimes i wonder why we k!llers, why they k!lling us
i think we only wear a grill because they grilling us
or how they feeling us, gotta look really tough
gotta keep your hands in the cart, know you stealing stuff
came a long way from a boat and an auction
now we got names and a vote, then a coffin
ain’t sh-t change but the coast we adopted
little black children you can call me that n-gga, n-gga

- black hippy

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