Letra de 514

[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'
Nigga'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
Nigga, 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
Nigga 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 nigga 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

[Verso 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 niggas is 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 Meg
Ride good, nigga 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 nigga spoke
Cause a nigga 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, it'll take a bigger toke
Bumping Little Dragon, I take a drag thinking damn
Hope you see the Simba crashing and a nigga note
Hope you see the symbols, hope you Stacy 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'
Nigga's only goals is the gold
Tell 'em Creflo Dollar, mothafuckas quit preachin'

[Conclusi�n]
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')