Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Knicks’ by Action Bronson. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Action Bronson or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Uh, chillin’ in the 6
Smokin’ the Cali, ice bucket challenge on my wrist
Young and black in the US, it’s a challenge to exist
Stove a thousand degrees, I’m a graduate to a brick
Got me gradually gettin’ chips
All my smokers grabbin’ a sack of that poison
If you can push it, I’ll give you points from the back
As he had it loaded and wrapped, and they call him, I’m comin’ back
Took a loss but on the next one I’ll make it back on the tax, nigga
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Elementary mathematics, nigga can you add?
Multiply, divide it and go re-up for at least a half
Smokers get the [?], man where the reefers at?
Standin’ at my window with my full clip
Malcolm told us we’ve been bamboozled and hoodwinked
Another Darren Wilson get a badge every week
R.I.P. to Michael Brown and mothafuck the police, bitch
I guess I got it sellin’ nickel bags
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Same night Chris Childs punched Kobe
It was a Sunday, I had the Hyundai
Then I crashed it, leather jacket like Slash did
Face melted off the acid
I bought 40 dimes of the yia-yia
Downtown Brown, Julie Brown know the hoochies wanna do me now
Don Bronson, in all white like Don Johnson
You ever had to take a shit while you’re trippin’?
Balls off, all the homies by the ball court
Shit hit like Little Richard on the boardwalk
I’m not the one for all the small talk
I’m like Christopher Lloyd, Big Noyd
Big coins, rosemary on the strip loin
Mike Tyson doin’ endos on a Haro
Queens Center mall by the Sbarro
I guess I got it sellin’ nickel bags
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
I’m in the Carmelo with 12 nicks, the L’s lit
I’m close to them niggas that do their bid and don’t tell shit
Or far-fetch, them niggas be doin’ the long stretch
It’s not that we’re heartless, we’re just usin’ our heart less
You know stress cause niggas to forfeit
When I cut it, all my nicks’ll be softer than Charles Smith
Lost grips of a nigga that hustled on dark strips
And street corners, so many police want us
Lookin’ to feast on us
Remember older niggas and bitches would sleep on us
Suckin’ their teeth on us
I touch down, celebrate like Vic Cruz
Spike Lee, got a front row seat to watch nicks move
Got no class like a nigga that skipped school
Fix your face ‘fore I play the mechanic and grip tools
The block gleam every time that a cop scream
On the corner sellin’ nicks that’s giant like Hakeem, peace
I guess I got it sellin’ nickel bags
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Looks like they caught me red-handed
When I land, niggas from the planet get stranded
And I ran cause I had a pound of Afghani
Watch that AK-47 stick up your grammys
And I want all the ends
For my niggas rounds of applause in the audience
Fake MC’s get clapped up ’til they disorient
Get out your seat, cheers up if you want more again
The happiest days of my life been taken from me
Now I’m just a slave to the mic, wait, hold up
I don’t think this chain fit me right
Got a couple loose screws so I write
Right brain trippy like…..
And I should let you finish too
I’m at Finish Line, should have finished school
Now you can’t finish lyin’, so I diminish you
They still get the teeth to show we know them as tools
I guess I got it sellin’ nickel bags
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags
Real killer, drug dealer
I got it sellin’ nickel bags