Box of Wheaties - Quelle Chris, Denmark Vessey, Maurese

Right, some kinda groove here

It’s a little bit groovy down here

Bah, bam, boom, bam

My mother, God, I hate my mother

Pearls like fuckin' dinner plates, you know what i’m sayin?

I mean, they’re so refractive

My uncle, he had an IROC in '86, and before that

That’s right, he had the mark VIII with the whitewalls there

And I remember he had, uh, the inside was plush

Everybody else told him to get leather

He said, «Nah, you know, my bad back»

I wanna be riding around in a plush velour suit

Plush velvet, I’m talkin' in the color of gunmetal grey, right?

Now you’re talkin' velour on velour

Hey yo, yo

I’m ballin, y’all should put a nigga on a box of Wheaties

I’m skatin', when I dip, just put me on a box of Wheaties

I flip it for the gold, gone, put me on a box of Wheaties

I hold up weight, these haters need me on a box of Wheaties

I kick it, they should stick a nigga on a box of Wheaties

I run it 0−100, put me on a box of Wheaties

I par up bar for bar, pa, put me on a box of Wheaties

I K.O.

every day yo, put him on a box of Wheaties

I been on splash for eight and a half, feels Fellini

Back to back, I have no time for dancing off the TD

Keep my people with me like Kirk and GP

They can’t see me, say he hard to read like graffiti

Pen, gym, bar, work, get ya numbers up

Rake up in fall, no chill in winter, lit the summer up

Oh you know nan' y’all best start acting like you owe me something

My brothers don’t sleep and my sisters roll Dahomey 'cause

This shit right here, this my year

Stepping out feeling like the shit, my dear

Forget those fears, drip no tears

For the real, let me make it crystal clear

This shit right here, this my year

Stepping out feeling like the shit, my dear

Forget those fears, drip no tears

For the real, let me make it crystal clear

I’m ballin, y’all should put a nigga on a box of Wheaties

I’m skatin', when I dip, just put me on a box of Wheaties

I flip it for the gold, gone, put me on a box of Wheaties

I hold up weight, these haters need me on a box of Wheaties

I kick it, they should stick a nigga on a box of Wheaties

I run it 0−100, put me on a box of Wheaties

I par up bar for bar, pa, put me on a box of Wheaties

I K.O.

every day yo, put him on a box of Wheaties

Oh, you fresh now

Since the rider requests masala and eggs

Some caviar and French shit

Subscription to Rich Nigga Monthly

With Shad Moss on the cover, limited edition

My bootstraps pull up

My walls do a 360

I got the shit that the government got

Yeah, you God damn right, God

Blood, tears, and bite marks

Fighting, sweat, it must been heavy metal in the right, guard

Not a Led Zeppelin in the sweat from goin' quite hard

According to this pie-chart, I should be in the psych ward

I wrote the real nigga algorithm on the whiteboard

They white-washed the style and put the rhythm in some Izod

It’s close to four cyphers in a row

On the time bomb, I mean I’m finna blow

I figured you should know

You might wanna get a pic for posterity with your Nikon

Before you hear obligatory yos

This shit right here, this my year

Stepping out feeling like the shit, my dear

Forget those fears, drip no tears

For the real, let me make it crystal clear

This shit right here, this my year

Stepping out feeling like the shit, my dear

Forget those fears, drip no tears

For the real, let me make it crystal clear

Ooooh, I know you wish you felt this high

But I’m telling you

No feeling low when you’re this high

That’s why they gotta put me on

I remember the first time I went to the motherland

We talkin' what, '73, '74?

I remember we flew into Dakar

And this brother, picked me up from the airport, in one of them, you know,

them Flintstone cars, you know?

One door on the muhfucka

Four mismatchin' wheels

No headlights, we in Dakar and this brother ain’t got no headlights.

Every- and the brothers in the street, everybody about as black as the night

We go off into the abyss, take off, we talkin' bout 60−70 kilometers an hour

I don’t know what that means, but, I know it was fast

We flyin', you know, we flyin' through the Dakar night

And I’m losin' my shit, you know, 'cause I can’t tell where this brother going,

we drivin' into the void, you know

And this motherfuckin man, you know, he just, laughin', you know

And only now, you know, at 67 years old, that I get it

You know?

'Cause now, I’m that car, you understand what I’m sayin'?

I’m that brother behind that, you know, Flintstone car, you know what I mean?

'Cause I got one door, I got one headlight, but I tell you what,

I know how to drive that motherfucker, I know how to drive that motherfucker,

I tell you that, you know?

You and your friends think you’re bad

You’ve ended a life

Destroyed a family

Over a jacket, wheels, words

So who’s next?

Your best friend, your sister, you?

Hey kids, get rid of your guns before it’s too late