The Soul, Pt. 3

One-two-one-two, mic check one-two-one-two, Been tapping into my intuition, illustrating

My new existence Visualizing success, black owned on folks

We winning Let's talk about legacy, OG's who broke the

Mold The golden child, 26 years, she raised the

One he chose But still it's hard to be that person that

You want me to be Little Mehkai from round the way, I had a slur

In my speech My mama from Mississippi, my pops he full

Immigrant It never mattered when police showed, we

Just hide and forget Heavily flawed, that's why I started rapping

I could've been acting, imagine the traction Aside from slip and slide and the accidents