Frozen Sunlight

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Open Mike Eagle] This guy Large Professor said, "Don't say the year" But it's 2012 now, and don't nobody care I don't even care like I used to. You gotta look Apathetic like Zoey D and Eliza Dushku How they look for real? I'm not even knowing In my head, they both look like girls named Chloe They probably go to parties where the coca stay flowing In Southern California, that's the only time it's snowy They say rappers are reporters for the hood Well, I just did the weather. I'm 'bout to send it back over To MarQ. I heard there was a shooting in the park And a bunch of teen mothers prostituting in the dark They do it in the name of Slauson and Figueroa In a 6-inch skirt and a pink feather boa I can't believe they really made a drug called Soma I'm forty G's in debt from a bachelor's diploma I'm drunk on the air like Kathie Lee & Hoda Take a couple shots a day just to fill my quota Santino Marella, striking you with a cobra Except it's much, much softer when I'm sober [Verse 2: MarQ Spekt] Grew up with a silver spoon, heroin got burned on it 4:36AM, no-knock search warrant Trigger pulled, cocked, no words—they take yours for it Chaos ignore us, all the fiends with that raw water That leave their mouth dry, mile high, skied on the Surfboard, left 'em dead on the church doorstep He crashing out, magna cum laude School of Hard Knocks with the black cap and gown One man face your army, back 'em down, mixed the Skunk with dust, and they called it Black & Mild Feet shackled, still couldn't track him a half a mile Beelzebub made me do it if I'm blacking out Spaz on 'em, them downers can't crash me now Chopped the sound, and they say the thunderclaps is loud Bang out, eliminate half your crowd Arrow in your throat and the apple in your mouth Rusty sawblades got 'em caught in the grind, falling Behind. I take your brain off of your mind Spekt, my flow measured in nautical miles, and Y'all can't bite. I'm taking all of your styles [Verse 3: billy woods] Drones in the sky got 'em running out of martyrs But it's go hard or go home, so they're coming for soft targets Hammer and a ratchet, meet the neighborhood Marxist The crucial conflict is your weed smells like some garbage Player Hater Number One, I'm at the Rucker, drawing charges Only shoot the fair if their gun shoot the farthest Whole game is dead, they sent me to bury the carcass Got Indians trying to play chief, benchwarmers Chucking up threes, too many idiot savants Fucking up good beats. Penny for Your Thoughts posing with the Hundreds. I "Got Beef with Da Cops"—fuck who you run with Island-hop with Monstas, heel-clicking bail-jumpers Diddy-bop when I bounce a grenade into your bunker Then I go see your whiz like Night of the Hunter Disappear your kids like a military junta African ambassadors in the trunk of black Acuras Circling 'round the capital, spitting that vernacular Driving high on the left side got me feeling like The Passenger You overstayed your welcome like every dictator Now shadow of the gallows pleading for a favor Scorpion and the Frog, I know it's in your nature So when my gun points down, it's pity, not hatred