Streets (feat. Tish Hyman)

Yeah

That shit hard

I said

My cranium is vibranium

My brain is on uranium and titanium

.45's, who aimin' 'em

Organize the stadium

Tell 'em , take cover

I warned you not to play with 'em

Them borderline war crimes

You got away with 'em

Who came to save the day

And brought the K with 'em

Tariq, the people's champ

From the equal team

And tryna keep it clean

Long as all my people solid dean

I been in the music scene

Long as allen leeds

Make they salaries

Still accumulatin' calories

Demonstratin' how to breathe

Senagalese, genovese

I been a reason to freeze

Reek G's in the league

On my own gettin' cheese

I will hurt hercules

I will murk most MCs

I'm the last one to show up

The first one to leave the crime scene

The obscene, Salam theme

The ridiculous rhyme scheme

The stick to the grind gene

The hell with the hygiene

It's a dirty bomb

Word to seven thirty time

Disaster level, 9/11 meets eleven nine

Catastrophe  beyond incredible

I redefine the seventh sign

Faster, scarier, mass hysteria

From Damascus, Syria

To middle America

The school cafeterias

And cul-de-sacs

I told you that

The boss is back

Know what I'm sayin'

In these streets

That I call home

Unless you're blind

You'll see it all

In these streets

It's cold as night

Sirens screamin' by

Gunshots all the time

Yo, omertà code meets the hippocratic oath

Observin' this whole circus

From a diplomatic post

My word and his whole purpose

A cinematic scope

The Earth and it's whole surface

I consider that it's toast

Same as Sammy Davis

Bellafonte, Quincy Jones

Mahatma Gandhi, James Baldwin

Jesse Owens

Runnin' from a cop car

Me and Akbar

I changed from a rock boy to a rock star

Hijack the elevator to the top floor

I'm takin' everything that's left

Like a south paw

Crash and burn to learn

Through osmosis

And watch the word

Spread like tuberculosis

I took a snapshot

But it hurt to post it

I had a black thought

And they called it wokeness

Overdoses, water bugs and roaches

Forty cals and holsters

All halal and kosher

Twenty thousand jokers

One ain't playin

I'm Claude Brown

Man-child in the promised land

In these streets

That I call home

Unless you're blind

You'll see it all

In these streets

It's cold as night

Sirens screamin' by

Gunshots all the time