Knicks Remix - Madlib, Freddie Gibbs, Action Bronson

Uh, chillin in the 6

Smokin the Cali, (Ice Bucket Challenge) on my wrist

Young and black in the U.S., it’s a challenge to exist

Stove a thousand degrees, I’ma graduate to a brick

Got me gradually gettin chips, all my smokers grabbin a lil' sack

of that poison, if you can push it, I’ll give you points on the pack

As he had it loaded and wrapped, then they caught him up comin back

Took a loss but on the next one I’ll make it back on the tax, nigga

Yeah, I gotta sell the nickel bags

Elementary mathematics, nigga can you add?

Multiply, divide it and go re-up for at least a half

Smokers scared to cop cause we beefin, man where the geekers at?

Standin by my window with my full clip (full clip)

Malcolm told us we’ve been bamboozled and hoodwinked (hoodwinked)

Another Darren Wilson get a badge every week

R.I.P.

to Michael Brown and motherfuck the police, bitch!

Uh, yeah… I guess I gotta sell the nickel bags, bitch

Uh, uh… yeah, I gotta sell the nickel bags, nigga

Uh, real killa, drug deala, I gotta sell the nickel bags

Uh, real killa, drug deala, I gotta sell the nickel bags, bitch

The same night Chris Childs punched Kobe

It was a Sunday, I had the Hyundai

Then I crashed it, leather jacket like Slash did

Face melted off the acid (melted)

I bought forty dimes of the yah-yah

(Downtown) bound, (Julie Brown)

Know the hoochies wanna do me now, Don Bronson (yeah)

In all white like Don Johnson (You know it’s me)

You ever had to take a shit while you’re trippin?

Balls off, all the homies by the ball court (It's kinda crazy)

Shit hit like Little Richard on the boardwalk (Woo~!)

I’m not the one for all the small talk, uh

I’m like Christopher Lloyd, Big Noyd

Big coins, rosemary on the strip loin

Mike Tyson doin indos on a Haro

Queen send 'em all by the Sbarro, it’s me

(Fuck with me) I gotta sell the nickel bags, bitch

I’m in the Carmelo with twelve nicks, the L’s lit

I’m close to them niggaz that do their bid and don’t tell shit

Or far-fetch, them niggaz be doin the long stretch

It’s not that we’re heartless, we’re just usin our heart less

You know stress cause niggaz to forfeit

When I cut it, all my nick/(Knicks)'ll be softer than Charles Smith

Lost grips of a nigga that hustled on dark strips

And street corners, so many police want us

Lookin to feast on us, 'member older niggaz

and bitches would sleep on us, suckin they teeth on us

I touch down, celebrate like Vic Cruz

Spike Lee, got a front row seat to watch Knicks move

Got no class like a nigga that skipped school

Fix your face 'fore I play the mechanic and grip tools

The block gleam every time that a cop scream

On the corner sellin Knicks/(Nicks) that’s (Giant) like Hakeem, peace

Yo… Looks like they caught me red-handed

When I land, niggaz from the planet get stranded

And I ran cause I had a pound of Afghani

Watch that AK-47 stick up your Grammys

.And I want all the ends

'Fore I let the rounds of applause in the audience

Fake emcees get clapped up 'til they disorient

Get out your seat, chairs up if you want more again, uh

The happiest days of my life, been taken from me

Now I’m just a slave to the mic — wait, hold up

I don’t think this chain fit me right

Got a couple loose screws so I write, right brain trippy like…

…And I should let you finish too

I’m at Finish Line, you shoulda finished school

Now you can’t finish lyin, so I diminish you

They still get the teeth to show with no dentist tools