
Date of issue: 01.07.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Backwoodz Studioz
Song language: English
Tinseltown |
They used to clown the kid like |
Scared money don’t make money |
Now they doing bids right? |
That’s why conventional wisdom don’t do nothing for me |
Marvin Harrison passed the eye in the dungeon |
Quiet ones be the shooters |
He who dares wins |
We down here with the losers |
They robbed that white boy cause this ain’t Hoosiers |
And stay looking for crack like jewellers |
Pressin' |
Like army recruiters |
Maneuver underwater, Afghani in the scuba |
Four Nigerians one computer |
Travailler |
Middle of the day |
Steak for two |
Peter Luger |
AK47 with the cheese |
Smoke Gouda |
Only priorities is right now |
The near future |
Optimistic? |
Every morning between my first sip of coffee |
Last digit on my scratch off ticket |
Middle passage I had to sell rations |
The rest got scurvy and rickets |
Just another misfit from the edge of irrelevance |
I been on that Ralph Ellison |
Nowadays flow meticulous |
Ridiculous embellishments |
They said it’s easy money |
But I just can’t trust it |
She said I love you honey |
But I just can’t trust it |
He said those his boys, not to worry |
Just can’t trust it |
They said come through, everything lovely |
Just can’t |
Pedal to the metal |
Enthusiastically peddle crack over instrumentals |
Only to backpedal when them narcs come knockin' |
Any resemblance to real events is merely coincidental |
Motherless child, Hansel & Gretel |
Abandoned in the ghetto |
Fear not a wicked witch |
But a clever Geppetto |
Have him holding a bag on stage |
In stilettos |
Separating Canaanites from they shekels |
Nigga pennies add up |
If you the neighborhood Gordon Gekko |
Wooden nickels of that sour crunch like a good pickle |
More flights than Biggles |
But at tonight’s show we play Don Rickles |
Salt on your game, kosher |
For putting his name too low on the poster |
Drunk as a fish harping that no respect danger field |
After last drink, ticket argument settles |
Jump behind the wheel and it’s pedal to the metal |
They said it’s easy money |
But I just can’t trust it |
She said I love you honey |
But I just can’t trust it |
He said those his boys, not to worry |
Just can’t trust it |
They said come through, everything lovely |
Just can’t |
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