Lyrics Rpms - Billy Woods

Bucket seats
Back of the squad car, ridin'
Through smudged glass concrete raw iron flyin'
Knees jammed, sea legs, dry land
Cuffed hands, mouth full of sand
Thick stone in the shoe
Still talk slick like "I'll be home in a few"
They're amused, took a right on through
Came down huge, chills like the flu
Thoughts of the box, a hundred niggas just like you
Warm milk and mayonnaise, nobody scratch they names
Empty vessels, grindin' more than pestle
Moon hang, jaundice bezel
Engine wrestle up blocks
Radios crackle with fired shots and narcos on that no-knock
"Who's there?" They smell fear
Front windows down, weed in the air
Brown bag beers
Grilling on aluminum foil, summer nights slow boil
Driving slow just to be jerks
Negros watch like it's a hearse
Dug deep, gave the whole hood that Max B smirk