Outchea

[Produced by Ka$h] [Intro] Now the next king of the country is the best known of all of the African kings of that period. He came to power in 1306. He was the kind of...show boy, of ancient- of medieval Africa called Mansa Musa [Verse 1] Bussin’ cool shit I keep my head on a swivel, knees deep in the gristle Empty pockets my issue I got a bread it official Homie shoot me a missile emotions on hold And save your tears for the tissue, only mama gon’ miss you Lace up your Timbalands summer merge into fall We makin’ winter plans time for servin’ them all Scribe the verse on the wall empires certain to fall Not till my grandkids grandkids kids have a ball I encourage you all to doubt my purpose and call ‘em out Nine tail fox Shinobi flow, the murda route One who she heard about all by the word of mouth Dance in the mirror for your king, twerk it out Always a gentleman for the ones who are cinnamon Menu at Bennigan's when I’m meetin’ your friends and ‘em Reapin’ the benefit, slide through the tenement Shake hands, kiss babies, you know the regiment Salute to the Wu, yesterday and tomorrow How many styles will you borrow from Masta Killa and HaLo? Bright Lady the kitchen, Ka$h choppin’ and kickin’ They'll take it all away even the pots that I piss in So I'm on top of the mission providin’ the plan No Land Cruiser just a Hooptie when I’m cruisin’ the land Young Zulu I stand upon the shoulders of Bam Solid as a boulder get your camcorder, scram We outchea [Verse 2] Bussin, yo I keep my thoughts on pivot so deep that you dig it Subterranean with it, if they got it, go get it Five deep in the Civic, I talk it and live it I never call back I hope your mama forgive it Lace up your Timberlands, summer merge into fall We makin’ winter plans time for servin’ them all Verse on the wall empire certain to fall Now till my, uh, not till my, yo Beluga white whale, jacket lapel, she in Chanel Word to Naheem and Pernell Word weavin’ it’s like a spell Aw hell, she bought the curls Told her to twirl and she twerkin’ it, what a girl What a girl, what a girl I should drown her neck in pearls She rule the world of this lyrical brainiac, matador maniac Kick the real, no slack, I ain’t fuckin’ with none of that I run laps round my blind poet tracks That’s the truth, ain’t no lookin’ back I post in the back roasted a sac of the potent potent pack Til my eyes criss-crossed I’m the miggidy, miggidy mack I sober up, providin’ a plan No Land Cruiser just a hooptie when I’m cruisin’ the land Young Zulu I stand upon the shoulders of Bam Solid as a boulder get your camcorder, scram We outchea [Spoken] I maintain that every people who came into Africa, Greeks, everything from modern day Englishmen, everybody that came into Africa did Africa more harm than good. And that Africa owes nothing to outsiders in regard to development because all of them declared war on African culture, war on African civilization, war on African ways of life. They began to bastardize Africa and confuse and create a kind of historical schizophrenia that Africans haven’t got rid of to this very day and they created whole words that did not previously exist like Middle East – middle from what?