lirik lagu a.j. throwback - proof of id
(intro)
man…when you in the streets, you fit the description…when you on the beats, you don’t…how does that work, man?
oh you wanna see my rap sheet? (bam bam!)
oh you wanna see my rap sheet? (bam bam!)
but you questioning my rap sheet? (bam!)
matter fact, holla at ’em, path p…
(verse 1 – path p)
they don’t want it, they don’t want it, they ain’t tryna get their flows stunted
so 100 even when cats get glow from frontin’
they ain’t saying nothin’, they pray the day my delay is comin’
too many layers, but i’m saying grace and this cake i’m cuttin’
man it’s somethin’, daps change when they feel their lane’s disrupted
things ain’t the same, they claim lame when the content ain’t destructive
bubble in the club ain’t nothin’
no bottle poppin’, guns bustin’, riding benzes or jumping fences when the feds watchin’
listen, i don’t move from a mind of no options
or spit the lines of false prophets who wanna define what hip hop is, nonsense
none of these bustas out here lining my pockets
or could ever check my rhymes and confine all my topics, stop it
do this, say that, maybe try different octaves
ain’t hezekiah or kirk but my verse’ll show em who god is
the money don’t move me, could care less for the groupies
me and my amigos got queens far beyond bad and boujee, it’s brooklyn
a.j. p-ss the rock, i’ll show em what’s cookin’
lay the smackdown on these clowns wantin’ to go round for round
ain’t a battle rapper or backpacker, far from a trapper
these actors neglect integrity as a respectable factor
when you listen, every bar written be what my heart’s spittin’
only ghostwriter i know is a pbs show
what these cats won’t do for the dough, man i just don’t know
but the quotes and my liner notes like making diamonds from coal
(chorus)
you need proof of id when you’re walkin’ through the streets, so
it’s no different when you’re talkin’ on the beats
when you see that bright light, don’t fight or try to flee
ok son, let me see some id…
(verse 2 – naim brixx)
walked from back of the bodega
copped me a bag of sour deez, and a pack of now and laters
stepped out the door i see jacob
had to think in a hurry, so i walked p-ssed my foreign
in the opposite direction, i’m already lit
now i’m all the way paranoid, all the way stressing
what if they stop me and ask to check for weapons
hammer in the whip, thank you lord, oh what a blessing
i kept stepping, getting my blend on
incognegro, peripheral, they making a u-turn
so i walked a little faster, i only got an eighth on me
real criminals they should be after, peep
already out of place, wish i could see my face
tryna out walk jake
can’t help but to shine, i thought to be myself
no less, your dress code is always on fresh yes
my stains paint the most cuticles
vocals sync harmony, bang the most beautiful
bloodline on gifted, subconsciously shape shifting
now i’m a shade bright lighter than blake griffin
you already
my strong arm most straight than arm steady
i’m strutting faster, oh well, they still behind me
saw that i was a g, no need to stop for id, pig
(chorus)
you need proof of id when you’re walkin’ through the streets, so
it’s no different when you’re talkin’ on the beats
when you see that bright light, don’t fight or try to flee
ok son, let me see some id…
(verse 3 – a.j. throwback)
man, they rolled up as if i’d have a thug-like revolt
i’m still seeing white from the flood light -ssault
i was only five steps, maybe seven from my home
voice on the megaphone so condemning in its tone like
“mighty late for you to be out
so since you weren’t smart enough to re-route, then pull that id out…”
i mumbled, “pig, i’m minding my business”
then thought, “if they beat me, all these people gon’ decline to eyewitness”
so i did it, they ran it, they busted out in laughter
asked kinda baffled: “where you get this manufactured?
says that you’re a rapper, where’s your cars? where’s your jewels?
so rappers nowadays are getting scholarships to school–”
more disbelief, something that they’re double, triple checking
“a southeast dude without a blemish in his record
stop playing, no possessions? no concealing deadly weapons?
your pops jaywalked and nearly got himself arrested
digression, you’re uninteresting, no trouble
but backtrack, mr. backpack, i’m kinda puzzled
’cause don’t you rappers battle for some meaning to your reps
but you don’t even have a battery or misdemeanor threats?
and from these rap sheets, seems you got a lot of flows
but what about the open mics, need some more shows
for this underworld, seems your att-tude is too delightful
we won’t even write or cite you…” but i’m like, “bull…
my history of crime ain’t the same as
hustlers with a claim of a reign like hussein had
but in places where the people came as plain mad
cheers for the bars where n-body knew my name at
i might be the model for what weirdness is
but the game is much bigger than appearances
so next time you need to check it
i don’t need show you id when you can see me in the records…
(chorus)
you need proof of id when you’re walkin’ through the streets, so
it’s no different when you’re talkin’ on the beats
when you see that bright light, don’t fight or try to flee
ok son, let me see some id…
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