Lyrics:
Real shottas
When we up in the building you will watch us
Bill jockas
Hill hoppas
I'm talking about more drip than spilled vodka
Egghead niggas that be
it
To have impact because
People realize everything
That I say is so relatable
Because when you're talking about
Romantic love
Both sides in all
your rump
Jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump
But if you want to see a fly but frantic
Cool romantic, more slicker than my man, Rick
You better check
me that burner
I'll slap you like what? Slap you like who?
Slap you like what? Slap you like who?
Slap you like Ike Turner
Pull up on the strip,
Forgetting you Dey pay the bills
By being romantic
Romantic ah ah
Ah na na ah
True love baby let me tell you about true love
Don’t let this people
about
While Ike in great tears looked on in surprise
He said Betsy get up you'll get sand in your eyes
Well the Shanghai ran off and the cattle all
Now don't you remember sweet Betsy from Pike
Who crossed the big mountains with her lover Ike
Two yoke of oxen a big yeller dog
A tall Shanghai
She says I'm not romantic
I say she's too dramatic
I tell her while we're at it we can work it night by night
She says I'm not romantic
I say
throwing albums just to show my tricks
Overtime I was ikes
Ike ike ike ike ike
That goes out to all of you pricks
Thirteen Thirteen Thirteen
I was pumpings
thunes (bass)
Jay anderson (string bass)
Ed mann (percussion)
Chad wackerman (drums)
Ike willis (vocals)
Terry bozzio (vocals)
Dale bozzio (vocals)
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
old son-of-a-gun.
Mark & howard:
He's a unionized roofin' old son of a gun!
(1988:)
Ike:
"darling, I crazy go nuts when I hear this,
You know what
by night
She says I'm not romantic
I say she's too dramatic
I tell her while we're at it we can work it night by night
She says I'm not romantic
by night
She says I'm not romantic
I say she's too dramatic
I tell her while we're at it we can work it night by night
She says I'm not romantic
Betsy gave out
And down in the sand she lay rolling about
While Ike half distracted looked on in surprise
Saying, "Betsy, get up, you'll get sand in
a
Mentality that suppresses humanity
Some of you here probably remember the night
When the Donda tweets came through
Me and I started talking about professions
When you cross the line
With these, these, these, these
It's a mad one
Ahh-wooo
Murmurs, learners, get slapped Ike Turners
I come from the town
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
the city looking
Back, you can actually
Pinpoint this transition, the very moment
Meek realized he could do this
Forever: he marked it
By cutting his hair
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin' laid tonight
Swisha rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit
inside my homeboys Benz
Now she begging God's mercy cause she ain't listen to Nas
And never heard about Ike and the Iverson jersey
He got a cousin named
never going to give up on that
Big romantic stuff
_________________________________________________
*Written by Bob Geldof
*Taken from the album entitled
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