[Produced by OnGaud]

[Verse 1: Mick Jenkins]
I ain't talkin' Yves Saint Laurent
But I'm been on Saint Laurent like a motherfucka
Overworked, overlooked, hella red
Tell 'em that I'm Type O for the bloodsuckas
Leeches
I'm 6'5" quit reachin'
N***a's only goal is the gold, tell them Creflo Dollar motherfuckas quit preachin'
I've been in the 514, my French gettin' too clean
Customs is routine, eatin' hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more
N***a, I've been going through it as of late
Lot of people talk what they think that they would have did
Like the CTA I keep my patience
I ain't in it for the JP Morgan chase, I'm a nice guy
N***a do this look like last place, I'm on Priceline
Searchin' for a flight to Montreal
Me and Jerry on Saint Laurent
I just want a little freedom; don't we all? Don't we all
Just, get a little tired of the bullshit they feed us?
Serve and protect, like protect your pockets and servin' subpoenas
Whole shit a circus and they ain't even serving us peanuts
I learned this, back when they was serving us free lunch
System 'bout as foul as a free throw
Tell me what the fuck a n***a know about a free thought
If everything that he thought stem from a remote
This is so that he know
[Hook]
I ain't talking Yves Saint Laurent
But I've been on Saint Laurent like a mothafucka
I've been in the 514, my French getting too clean
Customs is routine, eating hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more
I've been in the 514, my French getting too clean
Customs is routine, eating hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more
I ain't talking Yves Saint Laurent
But I've been on Saint Laurent like a motherfucka
On Saint Laurent like a motherfucka
I've been in the 514

[Verse 2]
Peep the passion, the thought he put in is hardly comparable
Speaking of parables
These days I find myself feeling like Charles Barkley
Man, all you n***as is terrible (Terrible)
So I just tell 'em, Southside in this mothafucka
Got the presence of a housefly
Everybody know I'm in this mothafucka
You can hear it when you listen
And I do it for the fam; Peter Griffin, we got no Megs
Ride good, n***a no pegs
Free Nation rebels, you need more lead
Homie get your weight up
You know who I pray to when I wake up, no weapon formed,
You don't get spared cause you less informed
I'm on my square cause we in a box, burners be like cinder blocks
Box sampled finna chop, door push it in the cold
You could feel it when a n***a spoke
Cause a n***a broke freeing all the feelings of the fickle folk
Fuck with me, pour a little passion and put it in your hope
Grow a little jasmine and put it in your smoke
Blow a little ash, hit and take a bigger toke
Bumping Little Dragon, I take a drag thinking damn
Hope you see the Simba crashing and a n***a note
Hope you see the symbols, hope you Stacey Dash
Hope you think quick fast when the trigger stroke
Hope you think quick fast, catch my ass in the 514
[Hook]
My French getting too clean
Customs is routine, eating hella poutine, I think I'ma buy one more
I mean I ain't talking Yves Saint Laurent
But I've been on Saint Laurent like a motherfucka
Overworked, overlooked, hella rare
Tell 'em that I'm Type O for the bloodsuckas
Leeches, I'm 6'5" quit reachin'
N***a's only goals is the gold
Tell 'em Creflo Dollar, mothafuckas quit preachin'

[Outro]
I've been in the 514 (my French getting too clean)
I've been in the 514 (my French getting too clean)
Shoutout to the 514
Shoutout to the 514 (6'5" quit reachin')