Lyrics The Park (Fresh Air) (Blue Sky Black Death remix) - CunninLynguists feat. Masta Ace

(Natti:)
The park bout to pop like fish grease,
Full to the gills like a hooked up six piece,
With acuit, on the spot like a fresh toupee,
For sunshine on a fresh blue day,
Gents breaking out they fresh new jays to match hats,
Ladies with their best doo laid and relaxed like,
The children skippin rope, double dutch chantin,
Miss Marry Mack dressed in black hands clappin,
Sweet Cadillacs with their back sub slappin,
Puppy love couples, cuddled with their clothes matchin,
Cops passin harrass and tail ya,
Sometimes pull your ass over just to tell ya.

(Deacon:)
Our failures, amongst the rose and azalea,
Yall congregating like Martin King in Selma,
Just trying to have a good time like James or Thelma,
My cousin bangin Pac, my mama singin Mahalia,
Feels good today, all the hoods dismay,
Is outshined by what coming together could equate,
Through my locs, see my Kynfolk that stood with me,
Daytons spokes, crown on leather and wood displays,
My queens dressed for impressin, that's God sendin blessins,
Hot like the West End, Icebox on the FM,
We need this, more than Playboy needs Hef and,
More that your lungs need breaths of.

Fresh air what a day at the park.

(Deacon:)
It's getting cool but the coals still red,
Stripes and Patron on chill, my folks all fed,
Ladies, what it do? Fellas, what it is?
Oughta have a blue carpet for the A's on the list,
Got the bootleggers, tryin to appraise me some shit,
Like twenty dollars can put sunrays on my wrist,
And fa sho as hot sauce stays on my fish,
On the laides playin gamin like live on em,
DJ on the mic got the slide going,
Soul Train line moves like the glide throwin,
On the slow songs grind put pine in the ozone,
Find something fine to poke on.

(Natti:)
As the sun puts Locs on, night is no mystery,
Hickory smokes gone off the rotissirie,
Physically grabbin all off in my nose cavity,
Tiffany strut as her booty oppose gravity,
How do I get her without her cold slappin me,
Have to be late in the park parking lot,
Where trunks knock alot and week spark alot,
In humidity scorchin hot will beef cook or rot?
Summer breeze in need like Benjis and Jacksons,
Instead pennies are stackin, coppers reactin
To how people relaxing in orderly fashion,
If you holding the rock then you oughta be passin,
Cause they ain't playin, gotta cell you can stay in,
Can this night go off right, I'm prayin,
Please Lord here these words that I'm sayin,
On this day can angels party without satan.