Whatta ya see? Oh, Kid Static, oh, Hopie Spitshard, yeah, Del The Funky Homosapien, yeah, Midwest/West Coast collaboration
Verse 1 (Kid Static):
It’s summertime walkin’ through the city where I live
Hands swingin’ back through the beat of the steps
My head, sweat drenched, cap fits on the back
The boombox, my hands my only artifact
Playin’ tracks that match my attitude
Bringin’ it back to the past with the soul, jazz
And the boom-bap, radio hear the soul claps
Now turn up to max to hear it all of that
Holla back at the cool breeze blowin’ off the water
While the lane is only gettin’ hotter
Phone blowin’ up but it’s too hot for drama
Guess I gotta call her back
See the windows rolled down in the Cadillacs
Traffic held up all the way to Hackensack
Layin’ on the horn, person out the side of they mouth
Makin’ a face like they was hit with a battle-axe
(South side where you at?)
And the weather stays blowin’ up the thermostat over by the Metra tracks
Stolen cars and smoke stacks
Gang lords packin’ cocas
Drivin’ by hookers poppin’ caps, it’s over racks
It’s all love walkin’ through the city where I live
Hands swingin’ back, to the beat of the steps
My head, sweat drenched, cap fits on the back
The boombox in my hands my only artifact
Chorus (Hopie):
Big-timin’, grimy as you wanna be
Hit the concrete in ya Wallabees (whatta ya see?)
With the boombox and the hat turned back
With the beat maxed out full blast (whatta ya see?)
Pants on crease with the hat pointed east
Feelin’ bossy, get the dust off me (whatta ya see?)
Women lookin’ pretty in pink
The boys gritty in minks, sippin’ drinks like (whatta ya see?)
Verse 2 (Del):
What do you see?
Money to be made or funny sh*t to keep you up outta the game
‘cause see hip-hop is outta the frame
Or on its deathbed just cryin’ in shame
Trails of bodies that lie in the way
Or people with power that be survivin’ by day
Hopelessness and no permits
Or coach that spit about makin’ the most of it
Roll with cats that croak ya fast
Or we livin’ in a system that promotes the a**
Beware of cops just as square as a box
Or creepin’ like a terrorist in nefarious spots
High beams on lookin’ for crack
Or sittin’ on a stoop steady slangin’ the sacks
Bangin’ for real or bangin’ on wax uh
Stay in the ghetto or stay in the trap
Del hella played and he stay in the path or
Lyrically he be fadin’ yo a**
That’s a verse right there is eighteen bars
Or the chorus is just a reason to make me pause
Chorus (Hopie):
Big-timin’, grimy as you wanna be
Hit the concrete in ya Wallabees (whatta ya see?)
With the boombox and the hat turned back
With the beat maxed out full blast (whatta ya see?)
Pants on crease with the hat pointed east
Feelin’ bossy, get the dust off me (whatta ya see?)
Women lookin’ pretty in pink
The boys gritty in minks, sippin’ drinks like (whatta ya see?)
Verse 3 (Hopie):
Focus, the fist to decept them lets them know this
It’s hopeless, Spits if you’re serious
Nope, it’s not a joke, not a wanna squab with Hope
Pushin’ envelopes, don’t no one got an antidote
And no one can ignore the city when it speaks
Creeps in ear cavities, seeps into beats
Bees Frisco’s streets make joy ya raised well
Anybody raise hell when you ain’t paid well
These days people livin’ in replay days
Oblivion make a livin’ and decay
Eighteen hour shifts and the power shifts
In your cowardice, you’re devoured, it’s like you don’t exist
Wish you will homie, I’ma gonna get loose
Under my spell, you youths hope to spit truth
In the bill and now we fillin’ this cut, b
Get the f*ck up on this beat, what’a ya see?
Chorus (Hopie):
Big-timin’, grimy as you wanna be
Hit the concrete in ya Wallabees (whatta ya see?)
With the boombox and the hat turned back
With the beat maxed out full blast (whatta ya see?)
Pants on crease with the hat pointed east
Feelin’ bossy, get the dust off me (whatta ya see?)
Women lookin’ pretty in pink
The boys gritty in minks, sippin’ drinks like (whatta ya see?)
