Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song BOZOS, artist - Tobe Nwigwe.
Date of issue: 12.12.2020
Song language: English
BOZOS |
Aye look, my mama was a hustler, my daddy not so much |
I grew up where if you look suspicious they called ya bluff |
Powder puffs couldn’t make it in the concrete jungle |
If you found stumbling then they pull up right around yo' bumper |
And make you run it all |
For no reason like Forest Gump and get the gun involved |
If you get to thinking you tough, I swear, it’s protocol |
They feening for reasons to bust and they don’t know no laws |
Other than keeping it tucked in they drawers or they britches |
'Cause a ditch can always find you if you slippin' or you trippin' |
Without a map, let me guide you down the road less traveled |
Don’t let that gravel define you 'cause it’s plenty folk that made it |
Down the path they had been assigned to at birth |
Worth in the earth ain’t determined by ya girth |
No matter how big ya get we all gon' end up in dirt |
Rehearse all that hurt and you’ll end up with a purse |
Of digits that only make you livid when they’re dispersed |
Into your cellular device, try to play it wise |
That is a hell of a disguise that you wear across your eyes |
Like a bandit, candid |
Pictures only show that you’ve been standin', slanted |
In someone’s vision that leaves you stranded, and with |
Nothing to show for all the demanding, bandwidth |
Used, in hopes you get approved |
By a dude who’s confused on exactly what to do |
With ya royalty, loyalty |
Can often cost you buoyancy |
When it’s connected to folk that’s drowning |
Choose love that constantly keeps you grounded |
And don’t join the circus if you ain’t clownin' |
This is for the bozos who don’t know |
This is for the bozos in this hoe |
This is for the bozos who don’t know |
Don’t join the circus if you ain’t a clown |
Hold up, they just say really having thangs |
Is more than diamond embezzled rollie faces and pinky rangs |
And foreign cars that sit in garage you barely could drive |
Living for materials ain’t really living yo' life |
There’s a fine line between give and take, you do what you love |
Don’t let them make you love what you hate |
I’ve been where you been, collecting yo' ends |
Too busy lookin' out where you can’t see the glow that’s within you |
Bruce Leeroy, sho nuff, yo' mind is a ginsu, chop up that soul food |
Like granny used to grow in the backyard when you rolled through |
Remember the time you spent when life was sit down and listen to the breeze |
The whistle of simplicities that echo off the trees |
Not the ones that choke, but the ones that help you breathe |
Inhale, exhale that slow, that gave you hope |
That one day you’d escape and have to save yo' folk |
Like there’s much more to life than struggling and hustling backwards |
Reverse all that nonsense, become a roadmaster |
Because they say so don’t mean that you have to |
They speeding through life, don’t mean you go faster |
Pump pump ya breaks, tell ya people you love 'em |
No time to waste, give 'em roses in public |
'Cause it’s cool like that, it’s cool like that, I swear |
It’s cool like that, it’s cool like that to care |
This is for the bozos who don’t know |
This is for the bozos in this hoe |
This is for the bozos who don’t know |
Don’t join the circus if you ain’t a clown |
Mmm mmm, if you ain’t a clown |
Mmm mmm, sit down |
Yeah, if you ain’t a clown |
Mmm mmm mmm, sit down |
Sit down, sit down, sit down |
If you ain’t a clown |
Sit down, sit down, sit down |
If you ain’t a clown |