THR33 SHOTS ft. Gifted Youngstaz & A-F-R-O Lyrics

Yo yo, Gifted Youngstaz, Fro

Gifted Youngstaz with the A-F-R-O spittin' abundance

For my Latino and black poetry

The potency be the woe is me odyssey known to be hotter

No overthrowing a body I body any kind of emcee

I be the mic creator, the troubled son mastermind

Be the spine breaker, I run and gun to pass the time

Must annihilate you, the one to turn the rapid fire

Be the crime caper, must be the one to rationalize

Only plan attack when you ready for the battle and saddle up

Matter of fact when I'm steady to the channel

I'm able to beat any criminal, I'm capable I be the interlude

Between the album the thought I could savor the truth

But I can't speak for anybody that not me

When I'm in the ring I dance around like I'm Ali

The confidence is immaculate, you can see the opposite

I be the fantastic, fabulous type of honorary

This for the brothers that locked up, no commissary

I leave you rappers blocked up for the contrary

Three shots on the eve of the autumnal equinox

Each of these effectively projected out the speaker box

Equally productive at destructing the elitist bloc

Peace, Ahk - let the rhythm hit 'em in they sweet spot

Aiyo feeling the feelings, revealing truths unappealing

But still my will dealing with competing in public speaking

Said I'm never enough? I call bluff, then I shut 'em down

Gifted - crown jewel of the mother fucking Puget Sound

Aficionado of spittin' gold - El Dorado

But I rip the beat to pieces, I'm stickin' it like staccato

I'm thinking that something is coming, I'm ready to fund it

I'm goin' a hundred, I'm runnin' to summit

I'm fucking the "what if I try and I plummet?" Cause if it could be done

Then I already done it bitch

Aiyo I'm coming without fear

Heart got smashed comeback player for all years

For all ears, it doesn't matter the talent

Cause hard work paid off, I'm at the top of the planet

What up to grassroots, we spitting clinics like classrooms

Read rhyme science in the lab and I'm breaking the glass tubes

Rap roots deep, we spitting for all peeps

But I kill it, distilling pure shit. And that's all, peace

But I kill it, distilling pure shit. And that's all, peace

Three shots on the eve of the autumnal equinox

Each of these effectively projected out the speaker box

Equally productive at destructing the elitist bloc

Peace, Ahk - let the rhythm hit 'em in they sweet spot

Yo, some kids would kill to be in prison

Others suffer from the ills of individualism

I don't know which one is worse in furthering this division

But words of wisdom said to work with what I was given, that's

A dollar and a copper pot to piss in; memories of my

Mama sobbin' after my noggin' went lost and missing

The saga not gon' stop by definition - young author got a

Pen and documented how he was made in his father's image

This lil' knockoff Basquiat's still not finished

Had it poppin' for a hot minute, then lost interest

I thought I had the oddest sense of artistry, but

Honestly I hadn't properly dealt with a lotta ignorance

False witness, born strong, trademark

Dark minimalism; it's long winters, but the promise of

Dawn's imminent, I'm in the wrong business

On and on until another song's written

Stock clip licking

Three shots on the eve of the autumnal equinox

Each of these effectively projected out the speaker box

Equally productive at destructing the elitist bloc

Peace, Ahk - let the rhythm hit 'em in they sweet spot