Summer Nights - The Alchemist, BOLDY JAMES

What that good word is?

Chemist,

It’s on (1−7-9) yeah

Lets get it

Better have my money by Monday, been a month of Sundays

Humpty dumpty fell off, took off of me and he fled the country

The heads of customs used to tell me «Make it extra chunky»

Fed the puppies off the same food used to to junkies

Kept it funky, gritting with the grinders, I was pitching sliders

Never once did we hit for hire, it was fundamental

From the dribble, cut-throat Kuniva, learned that from my youngin from

Remember when he hit the drive and spun the rental

This shit ain’t even gotta be on you 'cause once it’s in you

'fore you know it, it won’t be long 'before they unbefriend you

Burned my first mixtape, started with a hundred spindle

Heard he claiming brick mob but he not even from the

Catching vibes from the venue, crept inside from the window

Burnt the body up, they had to recognize him from his dental

My gun’ll drench you, instead I rather have youngin hit you

'fore you kill them niggas dead, tell them guys I’m the one who sent you

Blocks, slid through with that one utensil

Tell me what you gon' do when they come and get you

Keep it a hundred with you, these niggas unofficial

Don’t want no smoke with us so don’t let it become an issue

From trapping in we fell in love with pistols

Catch you lacking without your, you should’ve brung it with you

Kidnap a nigga kids, leave a nigga brother crippled

For a couple scribbles get you painted like a color pencil

Now give the drummer some, trying to count up a honey bun

Jugging off of the smartphone, sent his ass on a dummy run

from the slums when they cough up a lung

Hundred clips, hundred drums

Teslas with the cummerbunds

Son of a gun on Sunderland, it was one and done

Ain’t nothing new under the sun except me jumping bun

In the H with Uncle Bun, sipping H with Uncle Chad

King of diamonds Mondays, ace of spades running up a tab

Falling out the bar drunk, the valet pulling up the Jag

Benz’s and Rovers back to back, now get

Pour the drink up in the plumb, my Draco hold a hun'

we feed the block like it’s Ramadan

My ambiance is of the spirit of

Walking out the Rite Aid with more pints than Father Johns

Pull the Wraith up on the lawn, we play with dope and guns

So don’t make me overdo it 'cause shit get overdone