Lyrics:
leave if I don't leave
This patch of sky and native ground
Take turns to push and pull you down
Forget trying to live and be happy
I'll take safe
from the native time, eighteen years young
But it was the trade that made your money give me some
Yeah, play on & play on & play on & play on Grand
Desert shadows creep across purple sands.
Natives kneel in prayer by their caravans.
There, silhouetted under and eastern star,
I see my long
place where in a prince might dwell,
Oh why did you abandon it, the reason to me tell?
Oh son I loved my native land with energy and pride
'Til
planted,
We may not pass this way again, so take nothing for granted.
Sitting here to my right, a friend closer than brother,
Native of the land I see,
anymore
The natives are hostile
Whatever I say
The thing they fear most is
That I might want to stay
By their side on a distant shore
Can't go home
There were natives there called Guanches
Guanches by the score
Bullets, disease, the Portuguese, and they weren't there anymore
Now they're gone,
was born landless
This is tha native son
Born of Zapata's guns
Stroll through tha shanties
And tha cities remains
Same bodies buried hungry
But
from the native time, eighteen years young
But it was the trade that made your money give me some
Yeah, play on & play on & play on & play on Grand
earlocks
But I may, she flocks round me like a donut
She got sprinkles but I bite my way out
More brothers come about, try to scheme slick
But the Native
Illiterate to who where what and why
So I ask myself: who am I?
"I was born"
A native new yorker on the streets
Known for rockin' rhymes to real rough
son, his mother's pride and joy
And dearly did his parents love the wild colonial boy
At the early age of sixteen years, he left his native home
By The Light Of The Moon
Your Passion So Often Consumes Me
Like The Lick Of A Native Tongue Tune
Reality Is Ours To Create
Fantasy Is Ours To Mold
the daisy
Watching it die, see?
Native is the new like Balance is the shoe
Paul makes a mil like dill makes pickles
Plus is to add like addin to the crew
from the natives, live only on rum
I'm selling my memoirs, I'm writing it down
If no one will pay me I'll burn down the town
I'll rent out
We got a man on the moon (it ain't nothin' to me)
We got more comin' soon (it ain't nothin' to me)
Got natives in New Guinea with gold in their
on a greater day
Home grown from the greatest grain
Full flavor in the native strain
Now put that on your brainy brain
Full exposure to faith and slang
Minimum
More brothers come about, try to scheme slick
But the Native Tongue's thick
Lick 'em real good, like a real hood should
But the fly tape let the car
and oodles and oodles of O's you know
Last of the fast Plug pipers at the door
In your eye burning like rubbing alcohol
Native is the Tongue that speaks
away
Just a little tale from the streets of America (say a little prayer)
Sparkled promises paved with pathos and hysteria
Trenchant, weary native
to being - deaf dumb and blind
Illiterate to who where what and why
So I ask myself: who am I?
"I was born.."
A native New Yorker on the streets
Known
The hourglass is mine.
But I'm her lover,
Not a man bent on revenge,
Hanging out here on the fringe,
Of my native borderlands.
Counting the days
The sun
Desert shadows creep across purple sands.
Natives kneel in prayer by their caravans.
There, silhouetted under and eastern star,
I see my long
an island forty times
Who whispers from the natives in their two paying cars.
Angel got to see where you hide,
She might know when you die.
There's no place
Discuss these Native Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In