Battle Horn - Passport Rav, BOLDY JAMES

Lex With The Records

I go by the name Passport Rav

And what it sound like?

I realize a lot of niggas got position from proximity

No-talent havin', lackin' lyrics, no conspiracy (None)

Show chivalry, no bigotry, old niggery

Flow so symmetry, killin' you, no diddly

Squat and lift the whole earth

My plot will twist coal up into stones until your soul burst (Boom)

A universal soul search

I drink a Four Loko, transform into Quasimoto

You might see me, my mental projection in Acapulco (So out there)

You got mad followers with no dough, though;

I can’t relate

I spent too many years with canned food on the pantry plate

Fear’s much stronger than intelligence, no benevolence

Throw your goofy ass on the street with no severance

Halt irrelevance, fuck a job, you out in stitches

Sorry, but we filled that last token negro position

All the chiefs in the kitchen, no belief in the system

Hope the people would listen, call police on your children

These the last days, probably, my peoples will be proud of me

I’d leave the earth today, you driftin' off as a mockery

No Honest John’s, Polycom mics on they body, prob'

Gotta check your arm, legs, neck, fuckin' maricon

Go on, get that body harmed (Uh-huh)

Separate your spirit from your temple like I’m Shang Tsung

Trump’ll blow a battle horn

They called 'em crackers 'cause they used to crack that whip on us

Take the strongest out the crib and whip that Black skin off 'em

Fuck a hashtag, my reparations overdue

Revolutionary music for a chosen few

What it—Passport Rav

It’s Blocks

I was robbed I was robbed as a child of my innocence (a young’un)

Now I’m a God on the mile to the menaces

Me and on the prowl, put the finishin' touches on it

My file ain’t got no blemish or smudges on it (Where we at?)

Who want a feature?

Told 'em, «Send me the budget on it»

The coupe don’t need no key to start, could just push a button on it

The button-up Burberry, only button four buttons on it

Make you the butt of my jokes, then feature Joe Budden on it (Haha)

Puffin' on the strongest weed that Cali had to offer

First time I proposed to Connie, she left me at the altar

Caught up with another drug dealer with a bigger bag

Died from a speedin' bullet, definition of livin' fast

Bank shot off the backboard, call it «kiss the glass»

Zig-Zag-Zig Allah set me on a different path (Off course)

All this money, gotta be careful how I spend this cash

Made a half a mil' off Reggie Miller, no genuine draft

Where we at?

(Game time)