Boldy James and The Alchemist - Summer Nights

Yeah and you suppose someday I'll
Make the big leagues too one summer night
What that good word is? Chemist, Blockworks
It's on  (one summer night) yeah
Let's get it

Better have my money by Monday
Been a month of Sundays
Humpty dumpty fell off
Took off on me and he fled the country
Then had some custies used to tell
Me "Make it extra chunky"
Fed the puppies off the same food
Used to create to junkies
Kept it funky, gritting with the grinders
I was pitching sliders
Never once did we hit for hire
It was fundamental
From the dribble, cut-throat conniver
Learned that from Swally my youngin from
Remember when he hit the drive
And spun the rental
This shit ain't even gotta be on
You 'cause once it's in you (It's on)
'Fore you know it
It won't be long 'before they unbefriend you
Burned my first mixtape
Started with a hundred spindle
Heard he claiming brick mob but he
Not even from the nickels
Catching vibes from the venue
Crept inside from the window
Burnt the body up
They had to recognize him from his dental
My gun'll drench you, instead
I rather have youngin hit you
'Fore you kill them niggas dead
Tell them guys I'm the one who sent you
Blocks, slid through with that one utensil
Tell me what you gon' do when
They come and get you
Keep it a hundred with you
These niggas unofficial (They not)
Don't want no smoke with us so
Don't let it become an issue (They don't)
From trapping in them spigs we
Fell in love with pistols
Catch you lacking without your strig
You should've brung it with you
Kidnap a nigga kids
Leave a nigga brother crippled (yeah)
For a couple scribbles get you
Painted like a colored pencil
Now give the drummer some
Trying to count up a honey bun (Ayy)
Jugging off of the smartphone
Sent his ass on a dummy run (Whatever)
A one-on-one from the slums when
They cough up a lung
Hundred clips, hundred drums
Teslas with the cummerbunds (Mafia)
Son of a gun on Sunderland
It was one and done
Ain't nothing new under the sun
Except me jumping bun
In the H with Uncle Bun
Sipping H with Uncle Chad
King of diamonds Mondays
Ace of spades running up a tab
Falling out the bar drunk
The valet pulling up the Jag (Skrrt)
Benz's and Rovers back to back, now get
Pour the drink up in the plumb
My Draco hold a hun'
With Top and Swam we feed
The block like it's Ramadan
My ambiance is of the spirit of
Walking out the Rite Aid with
More pints than Father Johns
Pull the Wraith up on the lawn
We play with dope and guns
So don't make me overdo it
'cause shit get overdone

Written by:
ALAN MAMAN, JAMES CLAY JONES

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Royalty Network

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