Outchea

[Produced by Ka$h]

[Intro]
Now the next king of the country is the best known of all of the African kings of that period. He came to power in 1306. He was the kind of...show boy, of ancient- of medieval Africa called Mansa Musa

[Verse 1]
Bussin’ cool shit
I keep my head on a swivel, knees deep in the gristle
Empty pockets my issue I got a bread it official
Homie shoot me a missile emotions on hold
And save your tears for the tissue, only mama gon’ miss you
Lace up your Timbalands summer merge into fall
We makin’ winter plans time for servin’ them all
Scribe the verse on the wall empires certain to fall
Not till my grandkids grandkids kids have a ball
I encourage you all to doubt my purpose and call ‘em out
Nine tail fox Shinobi flow, the murda route
One who she heard about all by the word of mouth
Dance in the mirror for your king, twerk it out
Always a gentleman for the ones who are cinnamon
Menu at Bennigan's when I’m meetin’ your friends and ‘em
Reapin’ the benefit, slide through the tenement
Shake hands, kiss babies, you know the regiment
Salute to the Wu, yesterday and tomorrow
How many styles will you borrow from Masta Killa and HaLo?
Bright Lady the kitchen, Ka$h choppin’ and kickin’
They'll take it all away even the pots that I piss in
So I'm on top of the mission providin’ the plan
No Land Cruiser just a Hooptie when I’m cruisin’ the land
Young Zulu I stand upon the shoulders of Bam
Solid as a boulder get your camcorder, scram
We outchea

[Verse 2]
Bussin, yo
I keep my thoughts on pivot so deep that you dig it
Subterranean with it, if they got it, go get it
Five deep in the Civic, I talk it and live it
I never call back I hope your mama forgive it
Lace up your Timberlands, summer merge into fall
We makin’ winter plans time for servin’ them all
Verse on the wall empire certain to fall
Now till my, uh, not till my, yo
Beluga white whale, jacket lapel, she in Chanel
Word to Naheem and Pernell
Word weavin’ it’s like a spell
Aw hell, she bought the curls
Told her to twirl and she twerkin’ it, what a girl
What a girl, what a girl
I should drown her neck in pearls
She rule the world of this lyrical brainiac, matador maniac
Kick the real, no slack, I ain’t fuckin’ with none of that
I run laps round my blind poet tracks
That’s the truth, ain’t no lookin’ back
I post in the back roasted a sac of the potent potent pack
Til my eyes criss-crossed I’m the miggidy, miggidy mack
I sober up, providin’ a plan
No Land Cruiser just a hooptie when I’m cruisin’ the land
Young Zulu I stand upon the shoulders of Bam
Solid as a boulder get your camcorder, scram
We outchea

[Spoken]
I maintain that every people who came into Africa, Greeks, everything from modern day Englishmen, everybody that came into Africa did Africa more harm than good. And that Africa owes nothing to outsiders in regard to development because all of them declared war on African culture, war on African civilization, war on African ways of life. They began to bastardize Africa and confuse and create a kind of historical schizophrenia that Africans haven’t got rid of to this very day and they created whole words that did not previously exist like Middle East – middle from what?