Slippery Slope - Blockhead, Billy Woods, Open Mike Eagle

Watching the world through a pair of broken eyeglasses

I hope that what I see is only make-believe

Watching the world through a pair of broken eyeglasses

I watch the cats watch the mice

Hit the weed 'til both legs fell asleep

I’m not really there, fuck you gon' tell me?

High and out of it, admittedly its own form of cowardice

But yo, at six afro pick with the black power fist

Corduroys and a turtleneck, I could’ve took your (unnecessary)

Thirteen with the Malcom X hat, come on, man

I invented bein' black, my skin was matte

Carte blanche, I skipped the daps

To-do list pristine, once your name on the list, the light’s green

Peeled out the impounded Christine

I remember when whites used to come to the hood

Ask random black strangers for drugs

Shrug, wistful look in the eye, blinkin' hard

Like those was the days, blood

Outside agitator, I get your natives worked up

Women shimmin' out they burqas turnt up

Sons turnt gay, dad like what the fuck?

I don’t want trouble mister, I’m just tryna turn a buck

And it’s sundown out by sun up

This why I pack light, bag of tricks tied up tight

Bindle on a stick, flophouse flea bit

Still sleepin', daytime’s for twits

While I was getting jumped, kept track of who got which licks

Stop, stop hittin' him

That’s mean

Yeah

I was supposed to stop drinkin' this month

Ain’t seen a break since Tiger’s last fist pump

My clothes is feelin' tight like a kid’s bunk

Bed, I’ma dress like Alvin and the Chipmunks

A long ass gown and red snapback

I’m lookin' all abstract and half Bohemian

The divine geometry of an afro’s median

And other shit I retrofit meanings for later

This hat for instance I found in a meteor crater

I was teachin' my kid how Ben Franklin made kites fly

Saw a bright white light appear in the night sky

My son’s gonna feel free to be as weird as a white guy

But probably won’t have the wealth to farm cucumbers

But probably by that time you can farm through Tumblr

Like, on the website you could, like grow shit right there

Listen

I’m so ebbed into stylin' that’s wilder than cold lampin'

While it’s Flava Flav ain’t behave like no trampin'

Holdin' hate talkin' Golden State ain’t no champin' (Trash)

Hood people talkin' good we gon' go campin' (I'm good)

All the unseen and in my case sun gleamin'

Vex spinnin' the ex intended for puns meanin'

Phonics on some black as Onyx word to Sonny Seeza

Lookin' down the barrel of life like gun' cleanin'

On some ready to shoot jack, I’m through the night

Booky and dodgin' heavy pursuit crack a move gets tight

Order stop, call the cops when they lack reason

And other than when a brother offends for black breathin'

As I hope for better options, but stay with my Listerine

And keep it Otis Redding, Dock of the Bay type whistle cleanin'

It could make you wanna kill a man

If I’m real bein' shit’s demeanin'

Ya think you know what I’m meanin'?