If I wasn’t a b-boy I’d be a mechanic like Leroy
Oil smeared on my person no pursuin’ my Thurston
The third, never would have cuffed a bird
Or delivered good grades on a tight curb
Because doin’ bad on my blocks was tight lipped
Wouldn’t be a b-boy if my flow slipped
If I wasn’t teflon labeled non-stick
What you’re listenin’ to could be some bullshit
But metaphors engage like seal team six
Skinned the rabbit and ate the box of tricks
Puff puffed passed the spliff
With the wolf that couldn’t blow down the bricks
That holds up my own fiscal cliff
Like arches under aqueducts, or monuments with crumblin’ hieroglyphs
I’m a b-boy; my man’s a chef, dealin’ out Pyrex
Pumped that brick up like a bow flex
Before we hit the project complex
Stay a b-boy out a protest
For the men that listened to boom boxes on Hennepin
Those that have received mandatory sentences
Soldiers that stand before our shores
And hold those combat lines
If I was to send a care packages
It would be full of pork rinds
Mp3’s of D.M.C. and the latest news from TMZ
I’m a b-boy like Kwame dots, 40’s in parking lots
Hatin’ most cops, before Diallo’s 41 shots
I cried when they acquitted Rodney’s cops
Cheered the aftermath until the lootin’ stopped
Though Reginald Denny got it bad
I’m a b-boy like old scuffed puma’s and freeze tag
Handfull of penny candy in a paper bag
Sugar highs comes down like jet lag
Know that cuz I fly through time zones
Use to try and pop lock like Ozone
It’s in my DNA’s chromosomes
Buried in the marrow of my old bones
Prolific in my lifetime like old Langston Hughes poems
The O.G’s always said I had a sack of stones
Treading open water, no fear of sharks in my brougham
Cadillac 1990, on the side of my home
Where I’m defensive like New York’s guardian angels
In the plains of Mexico, a Texas Ranger
Huntin’ Plains Cree or Apache
And they was G, take yo’ whole family
Men tortured to death, white women in slavery
“Chickens come home to roost”, reference Jack Kennedy
Quote from Malcolm in his militancy
Before enlightenment creased an X on civility
A path to Mecca that demonstrated hegemony [hi-jem-uh-nee,
He was disregarded like hard hominy
That’s old school… my philosophy
B-boy because Krs 1’s in the path I walked
Third base in gas face, better then black face lawn jockeys
That’s why they say them ni***z cocky
Walkin’ as if we aint God’s progeny
Facing fear or committing larceny
In our freedoms reach for prophecy