Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cornbread, artist - Freestyle Fellowship. Album song Innercity Griots, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.1992
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
Cornbread |
| Where in the hell did the hip-hop go? |
| Where in the hell did the hip-hop go? |
| Where in the hell did the hip-hop go? |
| Yo Aceyalone do ya' know, do ya' know? |
| Well here we go, hot cake dough |
| Jellybean, banjo, candy store |
| Polka dot backpack, microphones |
| Shama Lama Ding Dong, doggie bone |
| Chippa-chippa chop, bust the flip flop |
| Skateboard, tennis shoes, ice cream shop |
| Telephone poles, baking hot rolls |
| A '91 pinto sittin on Vogues |
| Bubble gum, tick tock, hound dog fleas |
| Cock a doodle, doodle and some hog head cheese |
| Leap out the room grab the old broom |
| Eat a watermelon and walk on the moon |
| Cherry Coke, cantaloupe, little old maid |
| A big black berry inside the Kool-Aid |
| A bass guitar, a old fruit jar |
| A green canteen and a chocolate bar |
| Cannonball, baby doll, football fan |
| I flipped the mad dog and a Japanese man |
| A double bunk bed, a 40 to the head |
| Now get up and watch me rap the cornbread, hey |
| Hey, I hear ya |
| Yo' Aceyalone I hear ya |
| Well have ya' ever killed a great white shark? |
| Well, I have |
| I was on a boat I built and sailed around the world, don’t laugh |
| Yeah I was a crook an' met Captain Hook an' got tookin' a captive |
| Wrote a book in, 31,000 chapters, yeah, yeah, that’s it |
| I seen the ghost of augie?/boggy creek |
| I went to Fantasy Island, Gilligan’s Island and Pirate’s Peak |
| And then to Napa Valley rappers alley and stayed a week |
| I met the queen of all my dreams and we danced cheek to cheek |
| And then we freaked |
| Had a fight with King Kong, Godzilla and Rodan |
| Johnny Sokko’s giant robot and wrestled with Conan |
| I jumped in a rocket with Davy Crockett, headed for no man’s land |
| And landed and seen a time bandit in the sand |
| I travelled with Gulliver and I’m a on patrol |
| Looking for the Acupulco pot of gold |
| He blazed, I raised, little bastard got me flowed |
| I hit the road, had a hitch with son of a bitch who turned into a toad |
| You ever slept on Blueberry Hill well I will |
| I’ll have to connive and cook and clean for a meal and that’s real |
| I planted three jolly green bean weed seeds in a field |
| A tree grew all the way up to the sky and I smoked it |
| Well I seen zig-zag when he was zooming in a Z |
| Looking zonked and zany like a Zulu zombie |
| He thought he was a zenith with a zebra on the scene |
| He was a buzzing in the zone like he was zapped |
| (Bullshit!) |
| Well jingle bell, jingle bell, sugar on toast |
| The Fellowship Shop is from the West coast |
| Hey hash and eggs, crocodile legs |
| I’ll bring the chronic, you bring the kegs |
| Buckwheat and Stymie’s down with Rodney Allen Rippey |
| While Tommy and Annica’s beating up Pippi |
| Karate chops, snap crackle pops |
| You do the hip thing and I’ll do the hop |
| Cough up a lougie shake break and boogie |
| Cause I got a home girl that’s giving out nougies |
| Mr. George Bush was on my flo' |
| Cracked out, butt naked, watching Cosby Show |
| Hey, Little Rascals, Eddie Haskell |
| Black eyed peas with a lot of Tabasco |
| Chick-O-sticks, big fat chicks |
| Old reruns of The Jeffersons hits |
| Eenie meenie miny Mo, Larry, and Shemp |
| Slide me some skin on the black side, pimp |
| Training bras, holey drawers |
| Vonte and D double E, breaking all the laws |
| Double dutch, afros, parakeet crap |
| Honey I killed the kids with my rap |
| Then my DJ Kiilu he came and said |
| (Yo I’ll scratch the break you rap the cornbread), hey |
| See I’m a big old black man, a big old black man |
| A big old black wacky tacky black man |
| Born with my momma, arrived alone |
| And I’m alive and survive in a one room home |
| Never take a hand-me-down never dig a bone |
| I give and I live and I handle my own |
| Used to be a peewee, now I’m full grown |
| Not a shufflin' jigaboo, I’m hard like stone |
| I drink out the jug, I eat out the pot |
| I learn and I earn and I love what I got |
| My momma ain’t a housewife daddy ain’t a cop |
| I was taught to be a fair man, shoot your shot |
| Snake in the grass livin' in the past |
| Ain’t nobody got my hindside I’m a think fast |
| I’m the chugalug thug from Nicolett and Arquette Street |
| A watermelon sellin' bailin', no good cheat |
| Not a lie two-facin', a liquor jar tastin' |
| I’m a ebony woman chasin', got no time for wastin' |
| So bring in the news, singin the blues |
| I don’t shovel no shit and don’t shine no shoes |
| I’m a big old black man never had a friend |
| Sittin' on the roof top listenin' to the wind |
| My life is on the end, my grin is pretend |
| I’m a die in my rockin' chair sippin' on gin, hey |
| See I’m a bad boy, I’m Aceyalone, I’m Aceyaloony |
| I’m Aceyalone a nigga from the boonies |
| I’m Aceyal-on the edge, a motor corroded, your booty exploded |
| Devoted to zany, rainy, brainy |
| Topic can’t be lame |
| That’s the same ol', same ol' thing, baby, bubba |
| What you say, what you thought, was really going on |
| You don’t know right right but you got caught by |
| Aceyalone ranger, Aceyalone stranger |
| Willing to gimme a pound cause I’m just abound to lose you |
| So bamboozle out instead |
| Just remember that brother who spits the cornbread |