Mez – Playskool lyrics

[Verse 1]
Over paper with pyramids on their back
People hold chrome, with small cylinders attack
Bet you that they red octagon you in your tracks
Pull off in the whip, with the diamond on the back
And the sunroof top, thinking they gon' be a star
When their hood get hot, no relation to your car
But they won't be going far, they just make up dope dares
After L's in their circle, then they start to smoke squares
Pentagon chilling, politicians don't care
Long as the office with the oval can get the good glares
So the king and the queen never really understand
Why their hex ain't gone, and this is what the hood bears
No hearts, they hate on the living
So they try angles, that can hinder our vision
Six by eight, rectangular prisons
I know we better shape up when making decisions
It's like that...

[Hook]
(And they keeping me boxed in)
(And they keeping me boxed in like)
(And they keeping us boxed in)
(Why they keeping us boxed in like?)

[Verse 2]
Seven digits for your people with the hammers, man
Blam, cannons flash, sixteen in the handle, man
One in the chamber that'll shoot, like the camera man
When you done, only need three for the ambulance
Where I'm from, they rep that five with a passion, man
Move white, like avalanche, fiends at a trance
They buy the tens and the twenties and the fifties too
Cause they only want the highs man, like the Madden stance
Uh, now you ready to vacate
Cops tried to stop him, the last one ate eight
To the face, four five dispersed, and make waste
Five-0 get divided like weight to make base, uh
Hope they get em a new grind
Only reaching eighteen when gripping them two nines
Why I want to for? Like star on Lakers
Forty ounces instead of acres and yall dudes fine
Like that...

[Hook]
(And they tell me my days numbered)
(And they tell me my days numbered like)
(And they tell us our days numbered)
(Why they tell us our days numbered like?)

[Verse 3]
My hue, the same as Huey Newton's was
Black pride and gold crowns, I'm shooting for
Cause all my city need it, I want em on the dean's list
And hope they get their vanilla papers to hit the scene with
Not for the dutch right, brown paper crutch light
Blow purple till the room gray, that's a tough sight
When I know they could be read cause they such bright
Individuals, people would read if they just write
They wanna make your block light up, like Billie Jean
Push white through your system, like Midi keys
Take green from the victims, with the silver things
Make sure that they blew up, by any means
Color numbers shape, so the children take rule
Hope they take mind, that way they won't have to take tool
Uh, we giving you the playskool
So you won't play dead when learning to play cool
Like that...

[Hook]
(To all my pretty brown mothers)
(Shout out to all my white brothers)
(To all my strong black mothers)
(They define us by our color like...)