Lyrics Homeward Bound - Akir, Immortal Technique Presents: Akir

Homeward Bound

Gotta go.
You know I stay up on my tippy toes
Floatin' like a Cadillac through Kaki-lak, dusty roads
Money’s low.
Niggas know good bills is high
Gotta ride.
Gotta fly—planning to
Plus, I’m gonna kick it in Atlanta too
Just to handle a few things
Dudes be protecting they blocks and never move kings
I change my game like comebacks.
Sure, I’mma comeback
But right now, I had enough of that—I gotta make tracks
State to state, new city and town
I been around, but I’m homeward bound
A fast pace and I can’t slow down
Solid ground.
I’ll be homeward bound
State to state, new city and town
I been around, but I’m homeward bound
Change the place, switch my hustle around
Hold me down.
I’ll be homeward bound
Yo, chip on my shoulder, city blocks on my back
The only way Akir know how to act
I react to the scene and snatch up the green in between shit
Checking on my queen, staying with terrific leans on a different ride
Slide into the other side.
Fly from my mother’s side
Nice guy.
Slide from my pop’s side
I move around a lot, never really had a spot
But learn to read characters and how to pick locks
Akir—one-man band.
My home is where I land
Arms around my fam, eyes on a different scam ‘til it jam
Damn, gotta scram ‘fore the man come
I try to hit the can, son, ‘cause I’m too handsome
State to state, new city and town
I been around, but I’m homeward bound
A fast pace and I can’t slow down
Solid ground.
I’ll be homeward bound
State to state, new city and town
I been around, but I’m homeward bound
Change the place, switch my hustle around
Hold me down.
I’ll be homeward bound
Yo, I travel like a veteran where… ever I settle and
Making money peddling, X-Game medaling
Fiending like Carol when the end
I’mma win regardless ‘cause I’m a nigga that’s plotting the hardest
Rap artist at eighteen.
College, I dropped out
Crapped out the rap game, became a model scout
Getting change for bagging dames
Nineteen, a producer
Acid on computers, waitin' tables just to get my loot up
Cash and credit card numbers—they was on a slumber
Quit for the music.
That summer, nigga, I’m on the come-up
Got a job telemarketing, still on the grind
Gotta put the manager, started selling ‘em double lines
Paycheck, monthly bonus, and extra dough they throw us
Until we got busted down.
S’no wonder, disgusted, I’m out
Promotions for different majors.
Second company
Twenty-one, first client that’s really supplying papers
Off-the-book cash.
Traveled and we had a blast
The web boom to the whole stock market crash
Got a job doing car rentals.
It was instrumental
Shit, I had places to get to.
It didn’t pay enough
Times are tough, paper’s essential
I knew there was more to offer
Put on a suit.
In a month, cellphone and office
Back and forth to record my album
Dropped the job, kept the cars, and pressed up a couple thousand wiling
From the South to Manhattan Island
A man’s prowess is important as his callouses—enormous, kid
And now I rock shit.
Suburbs, back to the hood
New York’s my stomping ground, America’s my neighborhood