Yeah… horns talkin’ pain while the bounce keep playin’…
Shadows dancin’ on the wall, but the light stay betrayin’…
Let’s ride.
Bounce through the shadows, low rider soul in a high stakes game,
Jazz notes bendin’ truth, while the trap drums call my name.
Entendre deep, three ways – I rise, I fall, I reign,
West Coast king with the funk, turn my scars to champagne.
Bounce-bounce, shadows move when the bass hit right,
Funk guitar weepin’ secrets under city lights.
Progressive trap twist – yesterday’s loss birth tomorrow’s fight,
I see the whole board, every move precise in the night.
Rollin’ through the block where the palm trees hide the grief,
G-funk lowrider hoppin’ over cracks in belief.
Pockets full of potential but the system deduct fees,
Double meaning: taxes on dreams or the ones in blue with the keys.
I triple it – seed in the soil, bullet in the clip, or the third eye see,
Jazz improv on my problems, bendin’ keys so the pain flow free.
Mama said “Boy you too sharp for this blunt life,”
But the funk in my veins got me dancin’ with the blunt knife.
Progressive steps: from corner store scholar to stage conqueror,
Trap snares accelerate my fate, no time for the amateur.
Every bar a chess move – pawn to king in one breath,
West Coast bounce carry the weight when the jazz horns confess.
Bounce through the shadows…
Smoke signals rise from the fire I lit in my past tense,
Funk bass line ride it smooth while the 808s make it past tense.
See the play: I’m the author, the ghost, and the ink in the pen,
Write my exit while they plot my end – triple threat again.
Low end theory bouncin’ off the walls of these cul-de-sacs,
Where success taste sweet but the aftertaste got heart attacks.
Jazz solo in my mind, improvisin’ over bad decisions,
Turn losses to lessons, progression in the trap rhythms.
I see through the smoke – clouds of ambition or the kind you inhale,
G-funk bounce keep the ride clean when the system derail.
Fast tongue flippin’ scripts, from the hood to the hills in the same breath,
Serious contender, every entendre birth life or death.
Horns cry… guitar talk back…
What you runnin’ from? The shadow or the mirror crack?
Bounce back… accelerate the trap…
Whole city watchin’ my next move, no turnin’ back.
Accelerate the tempo, snare rolls like police sirens in the rearview,
But I’m two steps ahead, funk groove steer true.
Triple vision: crown on my head, weight on my shoulders, gold in the rear too,
Jazz freedom in my flow while the trap chain me to the breakthrough.
West Coast legacy – from the chronic to the chronic progressive,
Every bar a sermon, turn non-believers to the collective.
Shadows bounce when the light hit different angles of the grind,
I master the funk, the jazz, the trap – one of a kind.
Bounce through the shadows, low rider soul in a high stakes game,
Jazz notes bendin’ truth, trap drums screamin’ my name.
Entendre deep, three ways deep – I rise, I fall, I reign supreme,
West Coast funk forever, livin’ the progressive
Gwamp4
