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The Alchemist - No Yeast Remix Lyrics

[Intro: Boldy James]
With no yeast, so street, a nigga everything he seeming to be
BoldyBlocks/BlockWorks, where we at?

[Verse 1: Boldy James]
Scurvy nigga from Detroit, made it bigoff the lo-fi
I came from making pallets on the floor, but now we multi
Tied in ike a bow tie, out of work, call me Hawkeye
What do you call a pig that don't fly? Straight a fuckin' horse eye
Frenchy Montana, dropping more glass than Wassack
All this money, I be staring at it, got me cross-eyed
Don't get caught in the crosshairs, them blocks'll get you hog-tied (Blocks)
Don't piss me off or you get chalked the same way that your boss died
Thеse niggas, they just talk slack, behind thе line of screamers
Get caught off sacks
Don't make me click the switch, you know we ill-advised
Cleaning out my closet full of choppers, ain't got shit to hide
Skeleton AP bus with baguette, price set for sixty five
One nigga sent for me, who took the hit, he should've quit his job
We cooked the beef and grilled him with the stick, now he a shish kebab
Bought an hour from Chesapeake, somewhere remixin' pads
By the powers in vest in me, now you may kiss the bride
365-25-8 with triple OT
Don't need a GPS, the route I got it memorized
All I need in this world of sin is a 36
A dirty stick and a base rental from Enterprise
Sippin' this Red Bullon the road, shit got me energized
Way I touched down at the goalpost was just a gift from God
Brainwashed by the money, shit got me hypnotized
My only problem is which watch I'ma wear and which whip to drive
[Verse 2: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, my shit bold guitar, Dolce overalls
Break it down to H, you know the protocol, you know what stove involves
Been at the drums, had you runnin' dark and flippin', trippin'
I see one nigga hop a Porsche like Blake Griffin, my shooter stay sniffin'
My yay different, he lift his face from the plate
Thought it was Christmas, over a thousand dollar dishes wishin'
In Honolulu, Dior, daddy shorts lookin' Nunu
But never call me Nunu if I never knew you
Got twin bitches with fake titties blowin' my dice at the Caesars
Them stones too cloudy, lil' nigga, them ain't GIA
My wrist dancin' like Sammy Davis
Mesa Cassoon on Papi Mason

[Verse 3: Curren$y]
When push come to shove, that's brass knuckles underneath the glove
Pushed an envelope to the judge, less than a quarter million on that stubbin' bitch won't budge
We knew what it was before they shooters even pulled up
The whole situation reeked of some niggas hatin'
Where did you get your street education?
What have your OGs done? How many blocks did they run?
You way too old for niggas to see you on missions like they sons
My nappy dread, thoroughbreds and a six hun'
Cops pulled it over lookin' for guns
But this the money cost so they can't link us up, no RICO law
We eatin' over here, we spillin' Pico sauce
Trippin' on the Gucci tablecloth
She landed and came to my palace and she took it off
She said the scent of my candles had her dazzled
And then she felt compelled to pull a scandal off
But they could only call it that if we get caught
Baby, you dealin' with a boss, we do our dirt and get lost
Billy Valentine, these record labels, Mortimer and Randolph
Tradin' places, exchangin' some blues for all my old faces
Changin' states is a smart way, maintain that paper
In many different ways, and run it sharp as a laser