Lyrics:
#2: It could be carried by an African swallow!
GUARD #1: Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European
swallow, that's my point.
GUARD #2:
Janis it's a shame you couldn't do an up tune for us but I liked that one.
Later in the show.
Yeah, maybe later we'll be talking too. You're really
us
11-36-8 be the zip code
Corona, Queens nigga
That's what I call home
Feet on the dash, mind on the (?)
Racin' the Sun just so I can get dome
There's this dude that would party
With us at our functions
Now he big and round
Man be looking like pumpkin
This group back at school
clways got into
recognize anyone there
That used to be us, we used to be cool
With the music cranked up, hanging out after school
That used to be Jill, that used to be
help but think of how that used to be me
And every single beer I was drinking left me feeling left behind
Watch the prodigal sons out giving a tour
Spectacular
See it to believe it
All the love in the air
Like a family reunion
Whoever you may be
whatever you do
You know it ain't papers
that will get you
So
the coat check
Give me calls, she pick me off
I didn't hit the door yet damn, I'm sorry
But that bitch gon' be looking love sick
All on TV, crying to Maury,
That's your new girlfriend?
This is family business
And this is for the family that can't be with us
And this is for my cousin locked down, know
you motherfuckers babysitted
I smash the critics like a overhand right from Riddick (yeah)
Come and get it, shitted on villains by the millions
I be
the side that's
Been forgotten by the
Clamor of the trashy motherfuckers
Degrading the city standard
The shit is really getting outta hand I'm
Gonna be
at the class reunion
Pistol heavy, the money bagger
The bitches at me, up the ladder
Franchise, it's rappers that can't size us
Bitches flew out of state,
you worry
I'mma take you where you're meant to be,
Where you're meant to be, where you're meant to be
Is right next to me, the reunion
Class lined up,
comin' soon
How can sky be the limit when
There's footprints on the moon?
Now, I used to bus tables, now I bust rhymes
Spitting lines to the illest
Banana, pajama, I steer clear of marijuana
I used to play piano and then I started to sing
But fuck an opera class, that just wasn't my thing
Wear my $5 Tan
The lifestyle of the broke and average
Is something that I'm used to; the middle class is this
Living in the district to school with the privileged
Yet three
expect ye's all to back us to the hilt.
And if St. Peter at his gate were to ask ye why yer late,
Why you'd tell him that ye had to get a ship built.
We
Know they see that
Waiting on the moment that you blow
Just to reach back
This ain't no class reunion
Aye where them receipts at
Chicken bacon ranch from
(Killah BH)
Uh oh, It's that time again, It's been too long, It's family reunion
(Joe Budden)
Mic check, mic check
(Killah BH)
We
"The Kids Are Alright"
Can you say that out loud in the night?
Down South under lone-star moonshine
The current state of current state is what they
(Killah BH)
Uh oh, It's that time again, It's been too long, It's family reunion
(Joe Budden)
Mic check, mic check
(Killah BH)
We
you're doin' your thing too
I'm a deadbeat cousin, I hate family reunions
Fuck the church up, by drinkin' at the communion
Spillin' free wine, now my
So many people come and go we keep on living
Can never hate tho its just how moments pass
More power to you all hope you can make it out at that class
and spend the night at yo' house
Wake up by myself in bed 'cause you be at the stove top
Walk inside the kitchen put my hands up, let me stop
Please excuse
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