Lyrics:
the diving board
[Pre-Chorus]
Down by the swimming pool
Putting bills in the soda machine
Underneath the palm trees
Lighting up the pinball
Video screen with
was the sound
I started lettin' off rounds,
Lay the whole fuckin' room down
I don't want to see Your Honor,
Ratha' eat piranha from Benny Hana,
of empty rooms and broken frames and other people's stuff
In my house we see by Christmas lights and your TV, and that seems to be enough
To see what we
Make sure it's filmed, shown on national T.V.
They'll have no mercy.
A legal lynch mob like the days strung up from the tree.
The L.A.P.D.
Like
between the races
He hold the rock, call for sweatshops
Guard the set shop replaced by sex shops
The highest bidder, no room for the quitter
Game seven
for that busta shit
By the time I was 9, seen a bunch of shit
Lost more homies than a Iraq vet
Niggas skipping on groceries to buy that Tec
Lost a few
do is hang out with the stars
All they wanna do is get high like the moon
Take a nigga back to the hotel room
Sex, drugs, rap, roll, yeah we on it
now but it wasn't what he planned
Injili, Injili
We will sing with you
Just like the T.V
In Mr. Tembo's room
Off the emphatic night
He checked in
like the T.V
In Mr. Tembo's room
Off the emphatic night
He checked in on his own
At Mkombozi Inn and
Made it his home
Mr. Tembo is on his way up
Swimmin through the living room watching joni and chachi
And then I realize I'm potsy trapped in the tv
Sombody changed the channel and got the better
Well I see him on the TV
Preachin' 'bout the promised land
He tells me to believe in Jesus
And steals the money from my hand
Some say he was
a dark room lit by the tv light
Through all the hard times in my life
Those nights kept me alive
We'd listen to the radio play all night
Didn't want to go
A bomb went off this morning raining bodies on TV
They are blaming the insurgents; they are blocking off the streets
And the smoke is rising slowly
I like to be in america
Ok by me in america
Everything free in america
For a small fee in america
I like the city of san juan
I know a boat
for that busta shit
By the time I was 9, seen a bunch of shit
Lost more homies than a Iraq vet
Niggas skipping on groceries to buy that Tec
Lost a few
Will I see him on the tv
Preachin bout the promised land
He tells me to believe in jesus
And steals the money from my hand
Some say he was
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working
between the races
He hold the rock, call for sweatshops
Guard the set shop replaced by sex shops
The highest bidder, no room for the quitter
Game seven
stayed on the raps 'til we made it on the map
By then, No I was my main guy
He and I was like Chi-town's Gang Starr
We had came far together, with a long
There's yelling in the hallway
I found refuge on a twin bed of his three star hotel
I hear the laughter from the TV
Static Rachel talks to Phoebe
Check in a room by myself
And get used to watching TV and drinking alone
Tonight I'm gonna fire up
My old gettin' outa Dodge pickup
Drive about 50 miles
when we left
But when I got home and laid down to sleep
That began the nightmare, on my street!
It was burnin' in my room like an oven
My bed soaked
In heaven worm souls flutter
They flutter by with rosaries
Dangling from their necks
German shepherds guide by nightfall
Little kinder
Little kinder
FIVE HOMELESS PEOPLE
Christmas bells are ringing
Christmas bells are ringing
Christmas bells are singing
On TV - At saks
SQUEEGIEMAN
Honest
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