Crown of Curls

And a, yeah. In the mirror twisting locs, hands a symphony.

Edges laid like the coastline, infinity. Pomade smelling sweet, that cocoa butter.

West Coast shine, the sun, my undercover. Fade sharp, razor glide like

a skater. Every strand a story, my lineup's the narrator.

Braids tighter than my hustle, roots deep. Black hair magic, ancestral secrets we

keep . Crank, crank, crank, crank.

Crown of curls, yeah, the crown don't fall. From the 'fro

to the fade, we got it all. Yeah. Wave game wavy,