Lyrics I'm Indian - Rucka Rucka Ali

I'm Indian - Rucka Rucka Ali
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I'm Indian, artist - Rucka Rucka Ali. Album song The Fried Chicken - EP, in the genre
Date of issue: 09.07.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rucka Rucka Ali
Song language: English

I'm Indian

Okay
Guess who’s back
From the dead
Indians (What kind?)
American
White man come with no passport
From that shore, not that shore
I trade white man my land for
Smallpox
And then I die
Hello, little kiddies
Sit right here
I’ll tell you a story of quill and steer
And I don’t mean steer like flying over trees
Dropping napalm on the Viennese
Lalalala
No words
My people commune with birds
And smoke signals
Sent from Androids
In our tribal apartment in Detroit
And that’s not an actual condo
That’s just a metaphor
I live in cycles
I was a fox last time
Now I’m in a government subsidized
Top floor high-rise
Good god, cars go by
The pollution brings a tear to my eye
And I get sad in a teepee with a bongo
Can’t see, where did the sun go?
I talk to the ghosts and spirits
Say a little woo hoo
And I can hear it
Ohm, my spirit’s fixed
I live in a house of rocks and sticks
Now I’m gonna wear no pants
Get those grants
Yeah boy, get that cash
Whoops, I mean squirrel ooh ooh
I use it for my fur
I now do this
Lalalalala
Just do this
Lalalalala
Go crazy
Lalalalala
Go crazy (Lalalalala)
We’re lazy
I’m Apache
Old and trashy
White girls have disease
We catch it
They’re so ratchet
They wiped out my people
Now I’m on a reservation
Smoking weed and heavy drinking
Living simply with no grieving
Wanting nothing but our freedom
Then a government check
Touch methodic
This land gave us birth
We get what we need from the earth
We live to serve
We don’t believe in owning land or doing work
We have no jail
We have no crime
Our casinos provide good times
We pay (Lalalalala)
No gambling fines
Inside the tribal line
Now I’m gonna wear no pants
Shout them chants
Yeah boy, get that cash
Whoops, I mean squirrel ooh ooh
The moon is my timer
I now do this
Lalalalala
Just do this
Lalalalala
Go crazy
Lalalalala
Go crazy (Lalalalala)
We’re lazy
My kombucha was just boxed up
So to Walmart made by the white man
I burn plastic to make cardboard
Don’t pay taxes cause
Lalalalala
I’m Cherokee
Driving in a Bentley
I love nature
Hit me on the pager
She’s in danger
Let’s not rape her
Like some low-tier white bitch
Touch methodic
Now this is the park where the sacks hang out
Navajo nation reservation grounds
Everyone sings like
Hey hum how abagadagabagadaga
That’s the whole melody
The only one we know
I’m a red man
Not a red dot on the head helps you fix windows 7
And prays to an elephant and bakes naan bread
We’re natives
In Vegas
Take the plane that the white man gave us
Cheyennes
Ryennes
Indians
Cheyennes
Redskins
Guy with the palm reading science
Violence is not the answer
Alpaster can cure cancer
Eat some peas and talk to trees and go
Lalalala
To stop the bleeding
Now I’m doing a rain dance
With no pants
Yeah boy, rape that cactus
Whoops, I mean squirrel ooh ooh
Is that better or worse?
I now do this
Lalalalala
Just do this
Lalalalala
Go crazy
Lalalalala
Go crazy (Lalalalala)
We’re lazy
Alala
Touch methodic
Alala
Touch methodic
Get that coin
Touch methodic
I mean squirrel
This is indigenous land
My people lived here on this land for millions of years
Before anyone else came here
We came on this land first
We lived in piece… of shit tents
That was all we needed
We never had any walls
Our casinos had revolving doors you could walk right in
We had no prisons, either
There was no need
We didn’t have any black people yet to put in them
The blacks were brought here by the white man
What kind of shit was that?
The rising crime rate drove my people off the land

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Artist lyrics: Rucka Rucka Ali