Miles Davis

I autograph my cash and called a cab
 We on the map (map) back in New York City like a Dodger cap
 Blu, smooth like blue suede shoes
 I told my homie, "Improve," I'm Tim Allen with the tools
 I built my booth, made of jewels, left a hole in the speaker
 Stepped in the stu', no shoes, but got more soul than sneakers
 Below the clouds holdin' the crown, a Coke, and a smile
 But on the humble, word to mumbles, all balls don't bounce
 Yet a thousand styles flip out when the DJ spins out
 Hits out, spit back a hundred rounds
 Pulled the clip out, the most dope
 Niggas get roached tryna approach the host
 We lay it down, yo, butterin' toast
 They make seductions to the pro, most fit
 To hold his dick and spit
 A loaded clip to hit the listener's mitt
 I invent too many patterns to pattern your path after
 Tell them rappers that we got it mastered, yo
 Miles Davis
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (the leader)
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (trumpet)
 Miles Davis
 It's kinda Blu, but kinda new, colossal too
 My whole team supreme, it's like a dream come true
 I thought she new like the words to
 Brooklyn Zoo how we cook the stu' (stu')
 Homie my hook up might cut up, you hook your tooth
 Salute the best of, niggas hear this and drop their best stuff
 We next up, hop off the deck for your cassette bust
 You couldn't blow it, Coltrane in the mall
 Playin' the funk but y'all need to be hangin' it up
 You cats washed up, cuttin' with vets and got your paws plucked
 Prison guards couldn't lock ours, get your bars up
 Bar none, nigga, Jay Barnes get the job done
 We could be Siamese twins, still my squad won
 My due, my rent late, I still pay dues
 I'm too cool, too G, I sing the Ill Street Blues
 Born in '83, still gettin' it in '82
 And ain't a person on earth that could fill these shoes
 Miles Davis
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles)
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis
 Miles Davis
 Miles Davis
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles)
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis
 Miles Davis
 Yeah, uh
 Ex cut it (cut it)
 The black trumpet (uh), you couldn't strum it (nah)
 That instrumental hit, you in your stomach when you run it
 Crowds plummet tryna touch it
 The gold on the sound make you run out and crown somethin'
 It's the best, the next in the West
 Cover your chest like Muslims cover their neck
 Truth seekers summon my text, bi-coastal for bifocals
 It'll knock your trial over
 You tryna chop with the top chef, try over
 Who rhyme colder from California? (uh)
 You catch pneumonia in the city that Biggie wrote rhymes over
 Blow tweeters out speakers like, "Ether" through your aethers, yeah
 Eat up receivers with the signal, I'ma leave ya
 It's the code of the street sweeper, the sleep, sleep
 Deeper to the hair on my people, beatin' blocks with the single
 I see you coverin' ass like Utah fans
 But John Stockton couldn't pass talkin' all that jazz
 Miles Davis
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles)
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis
 Miles Davis
 Miles Davis
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis (remember Miles)
 Mi-Mi-Miles Davis
 Miles Davis
 Miles Davis
 Uh, Miles Davis
 Miles Davis (cuttin' loose with the band)
 The leader, trumpet
 Miles, Miles Davis
 Miles Davis cuttin' loose with the band
 Miles Davis
 Swing, swing, swing
 Oh, oh