Lyrics:
of Somalia
Which I escaped as a boy
My audience is in America
So my songs should reflect the land where
I have chosen to live and work
They have a point
on a daisy
Pop a dose in Cappadocia, in a quarrel with Ezra Pound
Whose fascist ghost comes crawlin' when I land in London Town
Is anybody listening?
This
foreign lands,
Talkin' bout {Ha!) Queens
I'm talking bout, Brooklyn
I'm talking bout, Uptown
I'm talking bout, downtown
Oh y'all with this too
I be the smoothest little nigga you can meet me (me)
But nigga you fuck with me then I'm a fuck with you
Introduce you to this heat
I sweep
Big nothing.
He stood in the road outside of town
With a broken clockwork toy in his hand.
A graveyard for childish dreams in his palm
a businessman in the Holy Land as a sidewalk souvenir shop
I bought a little Bible since I'd hardly stopped
And it was in Paris France somehow by chance that
some questions of my home town
While I was gone working on this album
Racking my brain going through all types of problems
'Cause the world would
Are you ready to throw down?
Yes we are!
Well, get on down like your 'posed to
And give a loc a little dap when he walks through
If there be
of funk
You get get crushed like you gave big pun the top bunk
So shut the fuck up, Funkoars pound the stage until the floor breaks
So get the fuck
challenge
Embarrassed by your actions you be the maddest
My time piece looking fancy this is a Patek
Big mad on your behalf because you hating on Tony
Big Sad
A little man to look after
Taking rap as a joke but I see no laughter
To man Charles Suitte and big tig in Atlanta and Va
Come on and keep it real; this
and the stars shine so brightly
And I don't know about you, but I know in my heart it's true
This small town's got a big old hold on me
And it ain't lettin' go
a big mouth, but you ain't go no hits
You just a squirrel in the path, about to get ran over
Your talk game is good, but where your Land Rover?
You
with all my pals
Hanging with the guys and gals
Big truck pulling up the bayou in my town
Yuck
Stuck between being bored
Popping off a glock or else I'm
Way back in 1969 I was 10 years old and working on the story of an American boy
Growing up in a small town
The world was filled with people who
album’s coming out
Just the perks of being frontman
Of the second biggest band in your small town
As you thank people for coming
Someone grabs you by
DJ Khaled
DJ Terror Squad
And he goes by the name of
You got the right one, it's Weezy fuckin' baby
And if your woman lookin', I'll let
homie go do your thing"
Big DMT make you go insane
Little LSD to leave your soul untamed
Smoke THC up out a gas tank
I laugh my whole way to the bank
I
LITTLE TOWN I'M IN, CORRUPT AND FULL OF SIN,
TAKING MONEY OUT MY POCKETS, TO GO GAMBLING'!!
DID YOU WIN ANYTHING MA'AM? HAVE A BLAST ON MY DIME?
NOW
But i don't feel shit off a perk and a bean
Ya Im whipping round town windows down in a beam
Big boy bands had to run up the racks
Bad bitch with
Workin' on the album at the same time, you know what I'm sayin?
Visionary boy (C Sick)
Yeah yeah, uh, yeah, we gon' do it for '96 (yeah)
We gon' do it
me all your drugs, props
Money and connections
Pick me up after school, actin' kinda shady
You the coolest kid in town
I'm your little lady
He's sick
To the black with a fat rap with a fat sack
With a little bit a funk in my napsack
Take it back to the brother land
And I was smotherin' stupid idiots like
black people
Obama ain’t bad either
wait imma dumb ass see um
you ain’t never did shit for us in shot town
that’s why the murder rate whet triple-double
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