Word to the Motherland

Lyrics

[Intro: Pharrell Williams and (DJ Drama)] Nah, nah dude seriously, did I monster that? Did I monster that though? It's nothin' Uh, check it out (Gangsta Grizzil) [Verse 1: Pharrell Williams] Real niggas save up for out-of-state, but collect stash houses Drive Jeep wagons taxidermy their couches Tennis ball dope, fuck LV pouches On the corner selling' that tiger, you can tell how they crouch I've seen pictures of Jimmy Henchman when he was in jail Fresh beeper, fresh chain, fresh sneaker detail Like he could, order anything from hits to sales Like he in the four seasons ordering cocktails Real gangsta's do it, they don't have to prove it The keys is spoken for, you don't tell 'em to move it They operate just like fluid They flow, fiends and hoes is they conduits Like the three-letter crew out in ATL Got the Feds scratching they heads sayin', "will they please tell" The nigga M is like the new Rayfel With police escorts that's louder than a Ray shot sale (Uh-Huh) And you get indicted, get your Steinberg's to fight it He paid that way, you think he ain't gon' write it? The feds get excited, not knowin' the cops incited So against the day decided before they even tried it (Gangsta) Now back to the necessity if you gon' supply it All your weak links, Donald Trump, them niggas get fired I did my research, my street exposure reworked I was too busy drivin' Enzos and hoes bezerk Now remember, who got you hyped? Who both, educate and spit the shit you like? Now analyze the picture that the non-thug drew Sip your Corona, and puff your bud too [Chorus: Pharrell Williams] The top of the top, and the best of the best (The top of the top, and the best of the best) The new double-R drop with BBC on my chest (Double-R drop, BBC on chest) When you got your Mark Jacob boots with the LV dress (Mark Jacob boots with the LV dress) Yeah, well holla at the kid, yessir, nothin' less (Holla at the kid, yessir, nothin' less) [Verse 2: Pharrell Williams] Back in '95 when niggas was runnin' fives I was bummin' rides, tryna hang out in the square Star borough, the fiends rolled up in diamond-backs and [?] Tryna smoke til tomorrow The next day, the same behaviour follows They was in that drug together like Al Jerreau I was hangin' out with Preme White S Yankee hat, kept let it on a lean Brabus rims, low-pros, it was mean High as fuck, he kept rewinding Wu-Tang Cream Said he was from Brooklyn, Shae said he was from Queens Queens niggas wear navy blue, and his Yankee hat was green The Mark Jacob's jacket, Chukkas to match it Could tighten-up ya problems with that new chrome ratchet That was the look, never seen him wid a book Born a have-not, so he grew into a crook Wanted the limelight, but it was dark in the slums Except the light from from the pipe, the fiends suck and they hum Slick Rick was right when he called us all crumbs Till you scrape, consolidate, and ya first [?] Ya gotta shield yourself, ya gotta get a gun Once ya fire, them niggas a sinus, watch 'em all run Once it's quiet, you know the fiends come End of of the night ya money roll like a hero bin [Chorus: Pharrell Williams] The top of the top, and the best of the best (The top of the top, and the best of the best) The new double-R drop with BBC on my chest (Double-R drop, BBC on chest) When you got your Mark Jacob boots with the LV dress (Mark Jacob boots with the LV dress) Yeah, well holla at the kid, yessir, nothin' less (Holla at the kid, yessir, nothin' less)