The Park (Blue Sky Black Death Remix) [Deluxe Edition]

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