Lyrics:
look like a mother fuckin rocket goin past
searchin for the sneakiest place to hide
straight into the ladies room, ain't got no pride
slippin slidin,
out late, he ain't goin' home
He love it when it's war, you can't get your money on
Let me tell you about these scars, baby
You can't scare a nigga who
raisin' hell
That Sunday morning, he picked up the phone
And as the phone was ringin'
Back home in church, a choir was singin'
I'M GOIN' HOME, for Mr.
You little punk mother fucker
I aint got no love for you I got a slug for you
Its possible today can be your very last morning
Move your ass
obliged"; old Sloan gave a bark
I left her a buck and he left his heart
At the Old Home Filler-Up An' Keep On A-Truckin' Cafe
[Chorus]
Oh, the Old Home
beautiful girl
The mornings not over
Horizons forever
Don't you go
What a fuckin' sad way to move out of your home
Ain't no family close by ain't no one
on your thrones
Butchering the verses
You forced us all to know
Killing off the land
We worked so hard to grow
Old country home
Home
Old country home
Home
you're stalked by the hunter of the fronter,
Who's size five and sexy.
Quick, they catch your body and another one next week.
Huh it doesn't matter
A mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a lover, a son, a daughter
Shall not, shall not fade
Shall not fade
Your ancestors salute you
And the gods
there's a Heaven you would think they'd let ya speak to your son
Maybe she has in the form of a baby's laugh
I heard passing by in a stroller, remindin'
posse, Fugee comin' around the way
Ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay
Nappy heads in the zone and we're not goin' home
Hey, yo, a battle is a battle but a battle's
told me, "pay your uncle Sam"
Single mother, always had us on the lam
Livin' in them shelters, spaghetti and hot spam, goddamn
Pots down, catch
be niggas
Ho’s goin be ho’s you know what it is
This world get crazier by the day but you know we just gotta roll with it
Start from scratch
Cut
posse, Fugee comin' around the way
Ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay
Nappy heads in the zone and we're not goin' home
Hey, yo, a battle is a battle but a battle's
up
All the home boys just can't get enough
She's a Ph.D., don't even stop
In the back like that goin (top, top, top)
I won't say white girl, won't
coats by the Coach, black Bentley Azure
I know sometimes a nigga might not make it home and it's
No reception, low bars; it ain't on, and I
Keep doin'
from goin' under.
The fedarones want to see me dead.
Niggas put prices on my head.
Now I got 2 rottwillers by me bed.
I feed em lead.
Now
lady I don't mean to trouble ya
Ya lookin' so hot inside your BMW
I got lucky, I brought home the kitten
Before I got busy I slipped on the mitten
like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under
My brother's doin' bad, stole my mother's TV
Says she watches too much, it's just
San Quentin
I'm doin'life to ten, when I come home you goddamn
right I'm goin back again
Fuck the drinks on the table
While you sleep I take pictures
' get fucked up
Throw your fist up! What!
Throw your fist up! What!
Throw your fist up! What!
Throw your fist up! What!
Right now!
Get buck! Get
She told me about a strange Chinese restaurant
In North Canton, Ohio
A five-year-old girl was discovered in a freezer
Murdered by her mother
Her mom
But my lawyers told me settle this (settle this)
Even though it's bullshit (it's bullshit)
Kelly, protect your career
All these people in my ear
I
on your thrones
Butchering the verses
You forced us all to know
Killing off the land
We worked so hard to grow
Old country home
Home
Old country home
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