[Intro: Fashawn]
It’s Capital, baby. It’s only gon’ get better
[Verse 1: Fashawn]
We was banging like an African drum
In the back of the slums, my skin black as my lungs
‘Member when rapping was fun, we was trapping for funds
Same corners where the savages slung, a wild
Pack on the hunt, loud-packing, trunk bogart
This shit from the jump hardly flinch when it dunk
Parliament with the funk, Garveyite with a gun
Yeah, it’s black magic in the ozone
So immaculate, they gon’ try and clone my chromosomes
Worldwide, made my area known
Like them diamonds did Sierra Leone, y’all should of left him alone
While I’m at it, make the chariot chrome
A 24-karat gold and embedded with stones
Watching Sankofa on my man’s sofa
In some tan loafers, studying heritage
And tryna overstand the culture before the planet blow up
I gotta pray every day, hand-to-hand with the vultures
Your man focused, you dig?
[Verse 2: Tage]
Yo, the passion passed down
By ‘bout five wise fathers, divine mamas
The only O.D.’ing is Our Dollars and Our Daughters
Serial t-crossers and ultimate i-dotters
Couldn’t see me even with multiple eye doctors. Each line
My pen ultimate but never second to last. Each song slap
Sound like multiple fly-swatters
The question that always remain with us is: “why not us?”
Knowing exactly who we are is our solace. I walk
For blocks on all the shoulders that I’m standing on. Most time you stand alone
They see you planning on tanning the tone
Everybody’s fingerprint is they own monopoly
Fordjour told me not to quit and you land on a throne. It makes sense
Since we descendants of sovereignty who cops shoot
For brandishing a piece when you answer the phone
Lotta same policy as when they was colony. I promise
The progeny prodigy, it ain’t no probably. Prolly catapulted
In ’88 with “My Philosophy.” I brew premium
Gloss paint, can’t out-polish me, but the thing is
It wasn’t always something that I could see (I could see)
Sylla Psy Selek, the spectacular version
Attracting cash disbursements that cast aspersions
On caste like a fast-working cardiovascular surgeon
McDaniel El on his Daniel Hale
That’s McDaniel. Hell, can you tell? God has to be lurking
Like it’s Sunday right after the sermon (Oh Lord)
Yo, I’d rather glow where they say you can’t go
Told me to aim low, they ain’t want me to know that we black
And superb…
It’s Capital, baby. It’s only gon’ get better
[Verse 1: Fashawn]
We was banging like an African drum
In the back of the slums, my skin black as my lungs
‘Member when rapping was fun, we was trapping for funds
Same corners where the savages slung, a wild
Pack on the hunt, loud-packing, trunk bogart
This shit from the jump hardly flinch when it dunk
Parliament with the funk, Garveyite with a gun
Yeah, it’s black magic in the ozone
So immaculate, they gon’ try and clone my chromosomes
Worldwide, made my area known
Like them diamonds did Sierra Leone, y’all should of left him alone
While I’m at it, make the chariot chrome
A 24-karat gold and embedded with stones
Watching Sankofa on my man’s sofa
In some tan loafers, studying heritage
And tryna overstand the culture before the planet blow up
I gotta pray every day, hand-to-hand with the vultures
Your man focused, you dig?
[Verse 2: Tage]
Yo, the passion passed down
By ‘bout five wise fathers, divine mamas
The only O.D.’ing is Our Dollars and Our Daughters
Serial t-crossers and ultimate i-dotters
Couldn’t see me even with multiple eye doctors. Each line
My pen ultimate but never second to last. Each song slap
Sound like multiple fly-swatters
The question that always remain with us is: “why not us?”
Knowing exactly who we are is our solace. I walk
For blocks on all the shoulders that I’m standing on. Most time you stand alone
They see you planning on tanning the tone
Everybody’s fingerprint is they own monopoly
Fordjour told me not to quit and you land on a throne. It makes sense
Since we descendants of sovereignty who cops shoot
For brandishing a piece when you answer the phone
Lotta same policy as when they was colony. I promise
The progeny prodigy, it ain’t no probably. Prolly catapulted
In ’88 with “My Philosophy.” I brew premium
Gloss paint, can’t out-polish me, but the thing is
It wasn’t always something that I could see (I could see)
Sylla Psy Selek, the spectacular version
Attracting cash disbursements that cast aspersions
On caste like a fast-working cardiovascular surgeon
McDaniel El on his Daniel Hale
That’s McDaniel. Hell, can you tell? God has to be lurking
Like it’s Sunday right after the sermon (Oh Lord)
Yo, I’d rather glow where they say you can’t go
Told me to aim low, they ain’t want me to know that we black
And superb…
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