The Alchemist
Words From Un
[Un Pacino]
You probably visioning trains arriving
I’m at the Amtrak station, two lanes divided with a dude
Nothin’, my destination is MIA
Tell conductor please move it” like something was in my way
When I get there, I’m probably gon’ rent me a Lamb
And blow a blunt to the kief that go 50 a gram
I’m a beast, when I step in the booth, it’s fire flame
Confidence to sell more records than who? Shania Twain
Even n***as in the Dirty’ll tell you I’m fire, man
Bang the thing and still send ‘em to see where sirens came, yeah
I ain’t going nowhere, I’m here, 11692, Far guru
Like, I dare one of you n***as to point me out
I’ve been doing this before Omni points was out
And n***as had brick sales and beepers and shit
Manila back weed, cleat Adidas and shit
Eva Mendes I’m fiending to rip, she in the plans
And I’m very ambidextrous with guns with either hand
You gotta beat the man in order to be the man
So I definitely want a slice of the pie, I’m a pizza man, yeah
You know I definitely want a slice of the pie, top of New York
You know what it is, H-dubb, bang bang Cocaine Gang
It ain’t over, it’s more beat left
In school I got smarter than y’all, I dumped recess
Plus I spit harder than y’all, I‘m from the p’jects
Y’all a bunch of suburb n***as, the same three steps
You hang with fags, I bang the mag
And leave a loud impact like a train had crashed
I’m tired of selling coke these days
So I’ma retire out in Cali with Oakley shades
I’m talking Charles Oakley paid
Let’s put the bricks together and have a big coke parade
Yo, my moms ain’t raise no punk, n***a
Let’s get it done, what?
N***a, shout for all my n***as that pop and hold the tear down
(What up with Z?) My n***a been gone a couple years now
Truly did it, got top from bougie bitches
Don’t do ‘em ‘cause the Mac can’t fit in the Tru Religions
You damn right I keep the Phil Simms on me
How you sold a couple million and go Will Smith on me?
You do good, but n***a, I do great
You n***as do Aryan Black, I do great
I could put a thousand bars down straight in two takes
X tape on the glass of the booth, it might break
(What it cost to Red Monkey the jeans?) Like eight
I stay double strapped like a pair of them I8’s
You fear that you might break, be considered a failure
The whip sitting on Jacksons and I call ‘em Mahalia (Dubs)
It’s only right I big my clique
You can tell I got balls, look how big my dick
Catch me in Nagasaki sipping sake and raw fish
I think I’m ‘bout ready to start, let’s record this
Yeah, it’s over now; look what you started…