El Dorado

Monuments or continents I’ve never been on
Who thought our career was ever this long
We came in strong, your reign is a shower
Go against the storm and you gone
Call me Ernie Bonds with a mic
Picasso with a melody, with a felony
'Cause my streets is nothing like Sesame
Raw like The Wire, minus all the pleasantry
You’re sitting on the throne with three legs
Got niggas in the state, got niggas in the feds
Got niggas that’s dead and the ones that’s alive
It ain’t no surprise, got demons in their head
I dance in France, leave them in a trance
Tell I’m a B-Boy in my B-Boy stance
Red apples and everything’s berry
And ain’t shit changed, party-arty in my veins
Call me Air France, been high since the plane
Fly since the days of running 'em, Keith’n 'em
Christen 'em, teaching 'em
And my heart is on the block, that’s the place that I’m speaking from
I’m 8-Tre Jones, I’ll put out the payphones
wearing the unseen alligator vests
I’ll lay alligators to rest, I lean with the El Dorado
I got the chick shaving the hair off my balls in Chicago
Maximillion, ask the kings about the Don
The kufi on the 5 Percenter
Sitting in the back of the GMC limo, they call me Hasan
My neighbors cooking that Italian pastram'
My boss Cici’s a a brand-new arm
From Guam, rappers keep hair growing in their palms
Allah on the rug, y’all pray to ride a dong
You see my spot in the forehead
That makes me explode my self with bombs
Supreme uniquely, supreme and sheikhly
They call me the Iron Speakly
That’s right, you see me in the LA Weekly
Captain Shock-A-Lot with a bad bitch from the projects spitting on my cock