Lyrics
1970, I was sent through a heavenly
Spirit and I’ve been dead-e-ly
As far back as my memory
Can record the power of God was sent to me
They gon have to mention me among the best eventually
Pitch Black’s the group of the century
I ain’t tryin to see death, disease or the penitentiary
When the smoke screens fade, the charade’s played
Nothing remains but the foundation we layed is real
Destroy and build, my feelings kill or be killed
Play around, we spraying rounds, I lay you down
No doubt, you don’t know what it’s about
You think you spitting game but the game spit you out
So you ain’t innovating you’re regurgitating
Poisonous thoughts, doing dirty work for Satan
I leave you so scarred, your corpse rock hard
Your arms are too short to box with God
And it’s all real
Weed grammar, coke manners, dope slander, hold hammers
Don’t provoke the hand that’ll choke your man up yo
Grinding for hours cause hope is for cowards
Trying to make more dough than flour
Foes notice the power
Competition and opposition get knocked out of position
We living like we ain’t got a pot to piss in
'Nuff flows to touch souls
Too tough to fold, too hot to hold, stop, pop, and go
This our pie to go, our time to roll
Out of the cold, into our zone, leave us alone, yo
The difference between winning and losing is picking and choosing
Your enemies, your friends to be, and who your crew is
Let’s get it together no matter the weather
Fuck haters nothing can break us as long as we makin this chedder
We ballin' like Lakers, we movers and shakers
No one can do it how we do it, showing and proving
My crew’s the greatest
Hey yo, with every step I take I move to build
I’m a quarter through life and I’ve yet to fullfill my will
Sometimes I feel like I’m my own worst enemy
I make things harder when it’s really elementary
I’ve got soul in my heart and dirt on my hands
'Dro in my pants, love for my mans and love for these grams
Got fam to feed and laws to lay
Guns to spray, blocks of hate, and workers to pay
Dog I never burn a bridge unless I never wanna cross it
I’m really a cool nigga so these hands don’t force 'em
I love this rap shit just bend the tracks I’m awesome
Love to toss bitches and fantasize of foursomes
I say what I mean, and mean what I say
Fast and D.G., repping for B. K
We do this the Pitch Black way
Today’s the tomorrow that you should’ve feared yesterday
And it’s *all real*