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(Verse 1) |
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(Natti:) |
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The park bout to pop like fish grease, |
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Full to the gills like a hooked up six piece, |
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With a biscuit, on the spot like a fresh toupee, |
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For sunshine on a fresh blue day, |
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Gents breaking out they fresh new jays to match hats, |
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Ladies with their best doo laid and relaxed like, |
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The children skippin rope, double dutch chantin, |
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Miss Marry Mack dressed in black hands clappin, |
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Sweet Cadillacs with their back sub slappin, |
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Puppy love couples, cuddled with their clothes matchin, |
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Cops passin harrass and tail ya, |
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Sometimes pull your ass over just to tell ya. |
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(Verse 2) |
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(Deacon:) |
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Our failures, amongst the rose and azalea, |
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Yall congregating like Martin King in Selma, |
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Just trying to have a good time like James or Thelma, |
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My cousin bangin Pac, my mama singin Mahalia, |
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Feels good today, all the hoods dismay, |
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Is outshined by what coming together could equate, |
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Through my locs, see my Kynfolk that stood with me, |
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Daytons spokes, crown on leather and wood displays, |
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My queens dressed for impressin, that's God sendin blessins, |
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Hot like the West End, Icebox on the FM, |
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We need this, more than Playboy needs Hef and, |
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More that your lungs need breaths of. |
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(Hook) |
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Fresh air what a day at the park.. |
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(3x) |
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(Verse 3) |
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(Deacon:) |
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It's getting cool but the coals still red, |
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Stripes and Patron on chill, my folks all fed, |
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Ladies, what it do? Fellas, what it is? |
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Oughta have a blue carpet for the A's on the list, |
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Got the bootleggers, tryin to appraise me some shit, |
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Like twenty dollars can put sunrays on my wrist, |
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And fa sho as hot sauce stays on my fish, |
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On the laides playin gamin like live on em, |
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DJ on the mic got the slide going, |
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Soul Train line moves like the glide throwin, |
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On the slow songs grind put pine in the ozone, |
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Find something fine to poke on. |
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(Verse 4) |
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(Natti:) |
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As the sun puts Locs on, night is no mystery, |
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Hickory smokes gone off the rotissirie, |
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Physically grabbin all off in my nose cavity, |
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Tiffany strut as her booty oppose gravity, |
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How do I get her without her cold slappin me, |
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Have to be late in the park parking lot, |
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Where trunks knock alot and week spark alot, |
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In humidity scorchin hot will beef cook or rot? |
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Summer breeze in need like Benjis and Jacksons, |
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Instead pennies are stackin, coppers reactin |
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To how people relaxing in orderly fashion, |
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If you holding the rock then you oughta be passin, |
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Cause they ain't playin, gotta cell you can stay in, |
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Can this night go off right, I'm prayin, |
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Please Lord here these words that I'm sayin, |
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On this day can angels party without satan. |
