i dont wanna sell yay get my door kicked in by the kkk shoulda said the police lookin for the quarter piece inside my caprice
from the tracks of the ghetto i try to escape ya caught my music on a CD or rap tape i make it then take it to the mom and papa store for a proper cash flo’ from the mom and papa store
dont want no more rappers on consignment find another alignment come back another climate people don’t even know who you is you need a name in the music biz
your album, for one, has no promotion your elbows and kneecaps have no lotion your ashy, your music is trashy outkast, inside they class me out the door is where they catch me (WHERE?) Straight into the street (WHERE YOU GOIN?) now im on my way to swap meet (SAY WHAT?) Tryn to make a mil without a record deal selling tapes off the back of my Coupe de ville (Bucka!)
Hustlin on the street is hard in a fight with the white security guard talkin bout ‘no solicitin, no publicitin’ I try to talk to him but nope he not listenin Punk ass, flunk ass, cant slam dunk ass skunk ass, monk ass, sufferin suckatash! Now i’m seein a black guard workin for a Korean tellin me i cant be in the places that i be in you can spend your money here you cant make no money here you better get outta here ya here here did i make myself clear? i go and drink a beer til im pissy in my belly big as missy elliot (EEEEEE!)
I’m so depressed plus overstressed wanna rap so hard im obsessed sometimes i wanna cock my heat make them punks play my song on the beat (BUCKA!!!!)
let me out, let me out let me show the whole world what im all about let me out, let me out let me rap til the party people scream n shout let me out, let me out let me show the whole world the best of me let me out, let me out let me take contol of my destiny
depressed, determined smokin, shermann black, german monster, herman sellin, crack money, stacked down for a murder, black like roberta flack get dressed up, get my tapes pressed up cuz the music industry is messed up, baby! i throw a pity party as i sip bacardi sell on! rap tapes, i dont need nobody ima beethoven givin, colt 45 sippin its the year 2000 and my gerri curl still drippin it might sound strange in my rhyme but im from the west coast i cant change with the hands of time what i am is what i am if you dont like what i am i dont give a damn black pecker’s my title, john king is my idol im havin thoughts thats suicidal, young rival i dont care about fashion, just cadillac mashin bags to put my grass in, bank to put my cash in i dont wear FUBU like you do cuz FUBU is booboo i pull my gat and make you shit boo boo sit you talk too much shit, thats why you got hit walkin home with your gums split while i sit, sell yay, eryday (BUCKA!) bumpin N.W.A. (BUCK-BUCKA-BUCKA!) cruisin down the street in my 6 A---FRO punk niggas get GA-FFO, bitch I wanna kill every cop I meet I wanna burn down this house that swapped me Im talkin smack but you aint hearin get your gat, i gotta start racketeerin, plus clearin all the koreans and all the europeans the ones makin money off of black human beings OH! give it up, give it up its time for the black folks to live it up a-ya-hey! burn it down, burn it down run the white cops outta town, motherfucker so tell andy griffith that his punk ass b runs from the black vigilante it cant be, a dictatorship, ran by the klu klux klan feel the wrath of the afroman
let me out, let me out let me show these motherfuckers what im all about let me out, let me out fuck the sheriff in the ass til he scream and shout let me out, let me out let me show the whole world the best of me let me out, let me out let me take control of my destiny
I CAN DO IT, I CAN MAKE IT if you dont give it to me baby, ima take it fuck the music industry, fuck the music biz i make my own rap tape and tell it like it is revolution, revolution revolution - thats the solution i made the rap tape, i made the CD fuck the corporate world, GIVE THE MONEY TO ME! BITCH!
ladadadadadadadadada Nobody understand the Afroman ladadadadadadadadada fuck the police and the ku klux klan ladadadadadadadadada ima hungry hustla, east side young bustaTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
