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whale fishing - boldy james & the alchemist lyrics

[intro: boldy james]
i paid my dues, facing life, i was stressing on
now i take a deuce, cut it twice, put a seven on it
mafia, what else?

[verse 1: boldy james]
backwoods full of dead opps, reminiscing back on when i bled blocks
still slapping in them same drug zones the feds watching
whale fishing, bottle full of syrup, i’m in h*ll’s kitchen
press*shifting, spot you with the work, we be deadlifting
snubnose stick dance, glock nina clip hanger
concreature, brick mason, been known to keep the heads boppin’
h*llblockin’, big remote control, don’t make me cl!ck the channel
spin a drill front us in the field like i’m mickey mantle
middle finger to the yankees, this to the black sopranos
who broke the mold, lo and behold, this for emmett till
wrist dancing, mr. bold*and*cold with the tricky dance moves
strig a deal with the finger, grips on the handle
bottle rocket hot, lit the wick on the roman candle
put the samples out, next day have all your heads missing
where squares going seventeen like uncle gradys son
playing with that junkyard dog, cut with the red fox
what else?

[chorus: boldy james]
backwoods full of dead opps, we was h*ll*raised
max spoons in them lotto packs, got the heads nodding
slapping in them same drug zones the feds watching
i know this sh*t come with gun smoke or a jail sent’
trap booming, a thousand stacks is a meal ticket
used to red*roof them brickies, now we hill*top ’em
still clocking, quick to chip a n*gga like some red hot
still clutching, stuffing backwoods full of dead opps
[verse 2: boldy james]
this russian cream’ll crush his dream from a headshot
give my youngin a head nod to blow the submachine
three*hundred beans on my nuts, leave him from the rest stop
touch back with a twelve*popper, screaming, “f*ck you mean?”
these honey bourbons just remind me how we spun his turban
hopping in my champagne suburban, fleeing from the scene
hundred*twenty*thousand on my neck though i’m a humble king
footb*lls and xans, he don’t know his pants from his jeans
thumbelina with the laserquest when we be jumping clean
so clean, so fresh, had to make sure that the table set
kept my sandwich bags where my scale and my razor at
shaving cocaína, double cup of funky cold medina
me and tone low on the warren where they raise [?]
selling big fat monkey nuts, rocks big as raising [?]
‘member selling dope on that corner in front of the cleaners
gambling with my life, i bet back every time i place the bet

[segue]
(turn him right back around, he’s almost driving)
(d*mn)
where you goin’, bro?
bro, where you goin’, bro?

[verse 3: maxo kream]
n0body’s home
clap your face, macaulay culkin, home alone
bullet to your dome, put this pistol in your ass
and now you sitting on chrome, dead right, we dead wrong
ask martin what they taught me, he gon’ tell you that i’m cold
and when you talking to a gangster, little n*gga, watch your tone
in the kitchen, water*whipping, had a pocket full of stone
i’ve been trapping since big tymers made “get your roll on”
ask about me on the block, was slanging rock, i’m stone*cold
serving molly, lean, and pot, known to get them bows gone
used to bust it out the wrapper, sell it to a trapper
i was hands*on with the dope, watch me double, dribble, travel
double*seal and vacuum, packing up the package
broccoli [?] his cabbage, vegan demon ’bout my salad
one*fifty for the trish, two*fifty for the wock’
need sixty for them thirties and four thousand for the ‘za

- boldy james the alchemist lyrics

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