Correction Paroles White People Don't Clean Their Chicken par $ilkMoney

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[$ilkMoney]
Nigga, I'm not Chuck D (D), because I say nigga, I love to do it
Wrap me in ligero leaves and chuck me in an Egyptian ruin
Knock the nose off you niggas face like Alexander the Great did the Sphinx
Get hit with a hundred and eighty-two shots before you blink
Couldn't wash my sins away like dinner plates or food scraped in the sink
But I bet this dinner plate that glimmer hit a goal just as great with this mink
I assimilate what you negate, then facilitate what you need
And demonstrate with a kitchen blade, sell my toasters with ease
Split it in half while you niggas dismiss the math
And just hit the dab, displayin' true knowledge
Instilled in my mental bag with this gift of gab
Sick and sad I have to dumb my message down with fictitious mash
You niggas trash, tryna maintain a message and fit a fad
You cows ain't real butter, nah, you bitches some shared spread
Conk his wig with this egg and leave him flipped with a red head
I ain't know a concurrent missile, I hung myself with the bed thread
When life gives you lemons, you could clean chicken with it or shed pledge
Sell my soul just to cut a throne and have riches untold
Confess my roles and beat my dick in a coffin like skull and bones
Holster made from the lizard skin of the one percent of the globe
And the pistol that fit in it made from the precious metals they stole
I'm on some other shit, baby, some other shit
And I'm still waitin' on the government to dispense them Harriet Tubmans
Money won't heal my wounds, but it's calamine, I'mma rub it in
Until they seal my tomb I'm goin' Columbine with the rubber trench

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