Lyrics Body of Work - Billy Woods feat. Masai Bey & Roc Marciano

Aging at the edge of an ageless void
Too old to be young and too young to be old or
Young enough to be paranoid
I′m just flowing with the waves to stay afloat
Paddling on a board while praying for a boat
And some rope but I'll settle for a mic cord
Center of the seesaw
Mamma told me I was very wealthy
Depending on your definition of rich and the way you see poor
I′m a father and still a son
On the middle of the road bopping like I got no place to go and
Someplace to come
Positive warns me of the deceptions of negative
Negative is trying to convince me to believe positive is a sedative
I ponder this and learn that they both are relative to life on earth
It sometimes feels like a repetitive burn
Ashes to ashes
Held captive in the urn
The ink embroidered
Black exploited
Crackers bought it
Crack was boiling
Niggas balling
Clientele calling
My cell fishtail like a dolphin
Instead of talking
Money's corporate
Progress forward
Bunnies is gorgeous
Picture me: selling 20's on some ′94 shit
Cutting dummies on porcelain
All my jewelry is frosted
Pigs is on corners more often
I′m feeling exhausted
I pray my sins don't fall upon my offspring
Grown-man pants, wallets and ID′s
Health insurance policies
Wallabies and collard greens
Eating right
These the finer things in life
I see your ring in the light
Everything that bling ain't nice
Niggas think that they nice
Scat-rapping in tights
That math isn′t right
This is rapper's delight
Now I′m through packaging white
Rap with the passion of christ
Don't get the facts half-right, yeah
Work my last slash and burn
Elephant hands
Every callus earned
With ho and machete
Wet earth turn
Deep in the dirt
King of the worms
Hyenas circle
Cackle blood curdle
Night dark as pitch
I'm up when the sky′s purple
Tapping ashes off clips
Left the shebeen with her and said
Do you dance quick
Now c′mon baby, tell me what's the word
Green thumb
No metal fingers but I′m still living on special herbs
Callaloo and cassava
Big ganga
Aiming at impalas
They came at dusk
Wearing balaclavas
You die today for the sins of your fathers
Is it really stealing when you robbing
From robbers?
Is it actually fake
When you already posing as impostors?
Shoot the boa
Kill the farmer
Crack that Cape lobster
Boiling in Durban with poison
Red dirt soiling
Black bodies toiling
Mambas coiling
Overnight, that sweet milk spoiling