Surf & Turf
Boldy James & The Alchemist Lyrics


Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴

Where we at with it?
Block West, let's get it

Slums of Detroit, drugs on the port
Plug with the source
Gun in my shorts, blood was the sport
Jumped from the porch
Hung like a horse, ones with the fours
Drunk in the Porsche, trunk full of corpse
Done with the torch
Run for the four, love for my daughter
Son was the fourth youngin' on the run with a warrant
Motherfuck a jail, gender, corpse, club full of dorks
Got it out the mud in my ports
Had to let the love run its course
Cousin up North, plugged in New York
Plugged on the coast, dozen of storks
Tub full of dope
Road trips to Ips', he was good with the coke
Real niggas like Nipsey give a hood nigga hope
Doug with the smoke, got about a dub in my coat
Ain't even on the flyer, but think I'm in love with the host
Glove on the toast, this for all my cousins and folks
Bloods and my locs, they know I'm a thug 'till I croak
This how we comin'

Overlord status, I be slummin'
My son think that I don't love 'em
He don't know his daddy thuggin'
Said, "I been out here since a youngin'"
Runnin' up a check, thumbin' stuffin' hundreds in that drum
These niggas notice how we comin'
It ain't no future in your frontin'
When my shooters get to dumbin'
You know my crew ain't missin' nothin'
Over them bloopers and them punkers
Niggas, notice how we comin'

First through the third, fifteenth through the thirty-first
Thirty-one, third, big three in my dirty squirt
Burnin' shirt, me and Nick speed, here, you heard it first
Curtis Curb, niggas cook beef like it's surf and turf
You know we swervin' Percs, slicker than fish grease
Them early worms get the birds with the big beaks
She got your bitch workin' my nerves out at Twin Peaks
G&E, olive martinis, we don't mix drinks
Big links, only built for Cubans
Think I'm big Meech, I been brickin'
Now I need that Cuban with the big sink
I been street with me, Nut and J-9, now we in deep
When it's just me
It's just me and my nine, feel like I'm ten deep
On the war, I'm plannin' in the hood, feel like Big Squeak
Off a forest, dancin' with them 'Woods, niggas been sheep
The hood want the music, tryna not let this shit leak
My son tryna fill my shoes, but daddy got some big feet
(You've got some pretty big shoes to fill)

Overlord status, I be slummin'
My son think that I don't love 'em
He don't know his daddy thuggin'
Said, "I been out here since a youngin'"
Runnin' up a check, thumbin' stuffin' hundreds in that drum
These niggas notice how we comin'
It ain't no future in your frontin'
When my shooters get to dumbin'
You know my crew ain't missin' nothin'
Over them bloopers and them punkers
Niggas, notice how we comin'

Came with the Crips, came with the script
Churn up the grits, can't never slip
Bang on the hip, burst from the whip, drive-by shooter
Autopilot, when I bye-bye losers
Look mama, no hands, look mama, more bands
Big house, more land, lil' Vince a grown man
Came with his own plan, no friends wanna pop me
Homie, you can't stop me
Thuggin' with the wop, burnin' up that swap meet
You know who the opps was, ain't nobody shot me
But I shot, mm, hm, hm, maybe 'bout three
Wasn't doin' too much, I done made a few bucks
I can get you Ku Kluxed, underneath the white sheet
Off the porch with hot feet
Coulda ran a forty in a four flat, .44, snub nose
Home, eleven, hold that, I ain't never shoot it thought
Traded for a deuce-five, and a sidekick's life
Put that shit on tiny scrap, pulled up where they find me at
Shot at them, we fire back, almost hit the gray Benz
Send it to Atlanta, got the Tesla with the gray rims
Try me, I'm gon' put you on a stretcher, that's on gang land

The breaking news tonight is that two people
According to Detroit Police
Were shot inside which prompted all of this
At the Citgo gas station, here on 8 Mile
The Camera, doesn't have a headlight on
And somebody if not a couple people




Could be running out of this vehicle now
One, two, three

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of Boldy James and Vince Staples' song, Surf & Turf, portray a vivid picture of the underground world of drugs and violence in the Detroit slums. Boldy begins by painting an image of his rough upbringing, with the drugs and crime rampant, and he had to adapt to the life of hustling. He highlights the fact that he had to be violent to navigate this world by carrying guns and engaging in bloodshed. The verse indicates that he faced several legal and ethical dilemmas, but he was doing what he had to put food on the table. The chorus, sung by Vince, emphasizes the pride that Boldy takes in his lifestyle and the dangers that it brings.


Boldy's second verse gives the audience an insight into his current status as a drug dealer. He highlights the fact that he is making significant bank and living comfortably as his stature has grown in the underworld. Despite this, he grapples with the challenges of managing his career and being a father. He asserts that he maintains his composure and works hard to ensure that his music reaches his audience.


The final verse, performed by Vince Staples, emphasizes his affiliation with the Crips and how he has progressed in the criminal hierarchy. He highlights the fact that he is not to be trifled with and lashes back at those who may doubt his ability to succeed. He claims that he has been in the game for a long time and has survived attempted shootings. The verse is a culmination of the themes of gang violence and the harsh reality of the Detroit slums.




Lyrics Β© BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network
Written by: James Clay Jones, Vincent Jamal Staples, Daniel Alan Maman

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comments from YouTube:

@domasavpedzivin

(VERSE 1)
"Slums of Detroit, drugs from the port, plugged with the source
Gun in my shorts, blood was the sport
Jumped from the porch, hung like a horse, Ones with the Force
Drunk in a Porsche, trunk full of corpse
Dump with the torch, run for the Ford, love for my daughter
Son was the fourth, youngin' on the run with a warrant
Motherfuck a judge and the courts, club full of dorks
Got it out the mud in my 'ports, had to let the love run its course
Cousin up North, plugged in New York
Plugged on the Coast, doves and them storks, tub full of dope
Road trips to Ypsi', what's good with the coke?
Real niggas like Nipsey give a hood nigga hope
Dub with the smoke, got about a dub in my coat
Ain't even on the flyer but think I'm in love with the host
Glove on the toast, this for all my cousins and folks
Bloods and my locs, they know I'ma thug 'til I croak"



@Deathcore_girl

Intro: Boldy James]
Where we at with it?
Blockworks, let's get it

[Verse 1: Boldy James]
Slums of Detroit, drugs from the port
Plugged withβ€…theβ€…source
Gun in myβ€…shorts, blood was the sport
Jumped fromβ€…the porch
Hung like a horse, ones with the force
Drunk in a Porsche, trunk full of corpse
Dump with the torch
Run for the Ford, love for my daughter
Son was the fourth youngin’ on the run with a warrant
Motherfuck a judge and the courts, club full of dorks
Got it out the mud and my ports
Had to let the love run its course
Cousin up north, plugged in New York
Plugged on the coast, doves and them storks
Tub full of dope
Road trips to Ypsi', what's good with the coke
Real niggas like Nipsey give a hood nigga hope
Dub with the smoke, got about a dub in my coats
Ain’t even on the flyer, but think I'm in love with the host
Glove on the toast, this for all my cousins and folks
Bloods and my locs, they know I'ma thug 'till I croak
That's how we comin'

[Chorus: Boldy James]
Overlord status, I be slummin'
My son think that I don't love ’em
He don’t know his daddy thuggin'
Said, "I been out here since a youngin’"
Runnin' up a check, thumbin' stuffing hundreds in that Drummond
These niggas know that's how we comin’
It ain't no future in your frontin' when my shooters get to dumbin'
You know my crew ain't missin' nothin'
Over them bloopers and them pumpkins
Niggas, know that's how we comin'

[Verse 2: Boldy James]
First through the third, fifteenth through the thirty-first
Thirty-one third, big three, and my dirty Squirt
Burnin' sherm, me and Nick speed, here you heard it first
Curtis Curb niggas cook beef like it's surf and turf
You know we swerve and purr, slicker than fish grease
Them early worms get the birds with the big beaks
Shit got your bitch workin' my nerves out in Twin Peaks
Gin neat, olive martinis, we don't mix drinks
Big links, only built for Cubans, think I'm big Meech
I been brickin', now I need that Cuban with the big sink
I been street, was me, Nut and J-9, now we in deep
When it's just me, it's just me and my 9, feel like I'm ten deep
On the Warren, planted in the hood, feel like Big Squeak
Off of Forest, dancin' with them Wolves, niggas been sheep
The hood want the music, trying not to let this shit leak
My son tryna fill my shoes, but daddy got some big feet (You've got some pretty big shoes to fill)

[Chorus: Boldy James]
Overlord status, I be slummin'
My son think that I don't love 'em
He don't know his daddy thuggin'
Said, "I been out here since a youngin'"
Runnin' up a check, thumbin' stuffing hundreds in that Drummond
These niggas know that's how we comin'
It ain't no future in your frontin' when my shooters get to dumbin'
You know my crew ain't missin' nothin'
Over them bloopers and them pumpkins
Niggas, know that's how we comin'

[Vese 3: Vince Staples]
Came with the Crips, came with the scrip, churn up the bricks
Can't never slip, thang on the hip, burst from the whip
Drive-by shooter
Autopilot, when I bye-bye losers
Look mama, no hands, look mama, more bands
Big house, more land, lil' Vince a grown man
Came with his own plan, no friends wanna pop me
Homie, you can't stop me
Thuggin' with the wop, burning up Del Amo swap meet
You know who the opps was, ain't nobody shot me
But I shot, mm, hmm, hmm... maybe 'bout three
Wasn't doin' too much, I done made a few bucks
I can get you Ku Kluxed, underneath the white sheet
Off the porch with hot feet
Could've ran a 40 in a four-flat
.44, snub nose, homie let me hold that
I ain't never shoot it though
Trade it for a deuce-five and a sidekick's life
Put that shit on Tiny Scrap, pulled up where they find me at
Shot and then we fired back, almost hit the gray Benz
Send it to Atlanta, got the Tesla with the gray rims
Try me, I'ma' put you on a stretcher, that's on gangland



All comments from YouTube:

@FOSSisgambleGOD

Boldy's rhyme scheme in that first verse is beyond fire.

@jonhardin.

Wasn’t it tho? Jesus Christ smh

@cbchansey6866

I remember back when burning man was blacks in Birmingham... before the presidential diversion scam matter fact, before they clapped Franz ferdinand

@mgiebus1869

Black thought

@jonbaxter3443

That was wack as fuck dude lol

@YoAMAX

@@cbchansey6866 Black Thought

26 More Replies...

@MrDerseh

Boldy James,
Benny the Butcher,
Conway the Machine,
Freddie Gibbs,
Westide Gunn
are the finest MC's of 2020.
P E R I O D !!! !!!

@DonYoGi8331

I approve this message

@ibrahimoshodi4472

I'd say Denzel Curry also belongs on the list

@iiStR1

Joey Bad

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