34th Side

Come on and take a trip, and ride with me ach/
Let me show you where Kick it at/
TC fitted hat, representing Minneap/
Riding in a slab, first Glock was a Garnett/
Starter, Im a shooter, I maneuver like a Corvette/
Dashing on them bastereds wit them badges tryna flush us/
Switch gears now disappear, and its back to the Puckett/
That’s the ave, where I painted graff, where I was spitting raps/
Where cats was flipping traps, and getting stacks/
I use to backpack, killing tracks wit fat caps/
Wit my brother Nes more less we use to kill it black/
Where I met Crash & Daze, BG183, Ewoke, Erose, Etyra, Taki183/
I was born in 19 Randy Moss/
A well dressed gator with now-a-laters, I was Lacoste/
But now I tot the cross, with righteousness across/
Sword of the spirit I live it against all cost/
Im from the land of the, trap spots, vacant lots, killing cops
Crack rocks, flat tops, have nots to have gots/
Slinging nar-cotics, ridding in Rari, slab or Maserati, styling like Zanotti/
I had to rep it for my city/
But mostly for my Alahym, the righteous king/
The sovereign of my diadam/
Yahuah, and his son Yahusha, smash the wicked in my timberlands like the manure/
I grew up on the north side/
The 34th side where them slugs fly/
Where Prince said them doves cry, you know why?/
Looks can be deceiving when you pull up on them demons wit the Draco or the
Nina (nine)/
Im a 45'er, chasing destiny as a child I’m a soul savior /
Making something out of nothing im a young MacGyver /
Well established, stay in action like sum vogue tire/
You blow gas? well my flow lighter /
Im from the 10,000 lake where people gemini in face/
So think twice ach, that’s Minnesota nice/
Women are shist if you don’t drive the right whip/
But don’t trip Im dip, Im like cheese on a stick/
And rock more kicks then karate flicks, and Rockfort kits/
Plus Im fit, and politic like Colin Kaepernick/
It ain’t that Im cocky ach, cause Im confident /
So let this knock in your ride and just rock with it /
Im from the land of the, trap spots, vacant lots, killing cops
Crack rocks, flat tops, have nots to have gots/
Slinging nar-cotics, ridding in Rari, slab or Maserati, styling like Zanotti/
Descendant of the chosen seed of Abrahym, and Yitshaq, and Yaqub/
Labor in the scriptures so all my people can wake up/
While they was nodding off, got lost in all the fake stuff/
I would squat bench, deadlift, getting my scripture weight up/
My gang p-nuts, Charlie rolling the trees up/
While they tryna deceive us, create more non-believers/
I creeped up in a jeep truck with the heat tucked/
Defeating punks, and leave em stomp like a tree trunk, chump/
I ain’t for division, I ain’t for the riffing, lion on you kittens I pop 6 in
that hot Smithen/
And If you ain’t ready to ride, or stand for the tribe, then step it side or
get crossed over like Allen I./
Cause my mission is to keep pitching, gather more fish in/
Until yasharals redemption ima get it in/
And put a end to the sin they tryna lock us in/
And keep it moving like Im grooving in my moccasins/
From the Apocrypha, Baruch chapter 2, verse 30/
For I knew that they would not hear me/
Because it is a stiff necked people/
But in the land of their captivity, they shall remember them selves/