Lyrics Tour Song Too - Coolzey, Sadat X, William Elliott Whitmore

Tour Song Too

Man I’m always on tour
At least that’s what everybody tells me
What could I say?
I guess the power of the people compels me
My people keep me sane and on top of my game
Showing me my target so I know where to aim
and just how far I got to pull back my bow string
Coolzey I rock the mic but with no bling
It’s no thing
Just a regular bro thing
A mic’s just one of the many weapons that I’m holding
You think that you could be me for real?
Nah, I also got a MPC, a shotty and a skil-saw
and I still draw, act, write and work on houses,
wait tables, book shows and flip ounces
Plus I gotta find time to sleep, eat, catch a flick,
Exercise, relax, make beats, jerk my dick
and still have time for wine, women and weed, too
Yo X, where you going when we pick you up from Jet Blue?
SADAT X
I go from continent to country
State by state
in the Montana van
Coolzey’s driving, my man
My software leaves no time to prepare
You holding out on the weed, dog?
Blow it in the air
In the back seat it’s share
Look how I messed up her hair
But she’s old so no pregnancy scare
I’m rare, untraceable
Strictly in code
Shake your ass on down and move your lymph nodes
WILLIAM ELLIOTT WHITMORE
We ain’t got far to ride
If we make time, say it’s about a day
Until I’m home
There will be porches and wine
My stage life will be miles away
But I know
That it won’t be too long
No it won’t be too long
Until I sing that tour song
No it won’t be too long
I know that my home will be miles away
So have mercy
SADAT X
It’s eight bars to the stars
Me and Coolzey we just won ours
In America’s heartland
I do my part, man
because that’s what I does
No particular reason
Season after season
Yeah, I be the rapper
Your girl gets out of line
What you gonna do?
Slap her?
That would be the capper for me sliding in
Don’t you do that my man
I’ll lift her dress like the wind
COOLZEY
High of experience and education
Try to put me in the Days Inn
Enough excuse for me to cave your face in
Liquor chasing with the Stella
Where’s hip hop when they won’t press up a 12 inch with an a cappella?
Promoters who front they get beat down
You love Busta but you never heard of Dinco D and C Brown
You’re like
How can I be down?
See clown, you gotta learn to cultivate the renown
Welcome to Z Town
Population 88
Number of personalities I got trapped up in my metal plate
I like to call a brain
My wrecking ball and chain
Crush this industry to rubble until no shitty wall remain
But is it all in vain?
How should I know?
I’m just a Henny sipping Philly hitting wino
So go ahead and sue me
I’m just another Rumi
Drunken poet wooing honey-dips until they do me
WILLIAM ELLIOTT WHITMORE
We ain’t got far to ride
If we make time, say it’s about a day
Until I’m home
There will be porches and wine
My stage life will be miles away
But I know
That it won’t be too long
No it won’t be too long
Until I sing that tour song
No it won’t be too long
I know that my home will be miles away
So have mercy