Umar's Revenge (Radio Edit)

Red rum on white ones

We don't bite tongues

Where I'm from, you don't run

You better pack guns

He go hard? But don't raise suns

Then he a bum (clown)

The violin sings, violent cries

Than silent whispers

He went live on IG

That's how we found a sister

I'm so bout it like Marcus from Bella Vista (Waddup bout it)

I paint pictures for single mothers

That's struggling, hustling

Off the government, the pot and The oven, Mitt

Keep the stove lit and let's get ninety-six Hov Rich (let's get it)

Since the jit, I've been it

Go ask your chick

Three hammers, one clip

Still too legit

I never prayed for a job

I ask Allah for bricks! (Wa lahi)

Now who am I to say

Put the guns down

When innocent men

Getting gunned down

I suggest we all get a hundred rounds

And ride out at sundown

Let's ride, let's ride

Young Malik shabazz in a durag

Bobby Sale banging out the black jag

George Jackson with a Wayne Perry swag

No punchlines or bars

Just bullet holes and scars

Fist fights in the yard

Sunniworld the mobb

One-third, of a man?

No, nigga, we were gods

(as stagfurllah)

Caviar wish champagne dreams

Brazilian hips that don't inside Jeans

Tell, Dr. Umar, then I'm Idi Amin

Whipping that white Queen