Outer Heaven

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Brandon Marsalis

Branford Marsalis (born August 26, 1960) is an American saxophonist, composer, and bandleader. While primarily known for his work in jazz as the leader of the Branford Marsalis Quartet, he also performs frequently as a soloist with classical ensembles and has led the group Buckshot LeFonque. From 1992 to 1995 he led the Tonight Show Band. more »

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Jail got a nigga
Locked up
Homies trine make bail
The 5 0 is corrupt
Rough around the edges
Still a diamond in rough
Momma visit once a month
See her son in handcuffs
Poppa said man up
I said I hate them niggas
You don’t know how much
Still serving calcium powder out that old ass truck
Cocaine thick like clam chowder
They don’t know whats what
They get paid by the hour
Just to sit in the cut
Bubba called me up
On the low
Thats my hitta
Drunk
Passed out on the floor
Hold ya liquor
Bubba called me up
On the low
Thats my hitta
Drunk
Passed out on the floor
Hold ya liquor
You cant teach some
Principles to drop out niggas
Dope flippers
Killers
Homeless with coke jitters
Zombies walking the street
Nigga this shit is thriller
Finding for quarter piece
Pills gonna shake pillers
A feeling way to familiar
When the rock touched my famila
When you boxed
You hear the whispers
Through locks
As cold as winter
I heard you got disfigured
I figured
From crip niggas
You bitter
I guess its true
The fox always alludes
Never play with niggas
That aint got nothing to lose
The devil always comes for everything that is due
The last one to think
I always the first to shoot
Why forbidden fruit always bear the best juice
He tuck the deuce deuce
Every argument diffused
He robbed the liquor store
We say it on the news
Gave that remy to his ma
We call him pappose
Niggas tell tall tales
The hood got Dr. suess
Let me guess
I guess you got the thing 2
It fits ya attitude
The fate of all fools
The traits
The hate
I seen it all brew
Outer heaven open
Jump the gate and get approved
Bubba called me up
On the low
Thats my hitta
Drunk
Passed out on the floor
Hold ya liquor
Bubba called me up
On the low
Thats my hitta
Drunk
Passed out on the floor
Hold ya liquor
His plug from Africa
Traffica
The shit is bumbatta
He pack it up
Bubble wrap it up
He sold alotta
Made a rack enough
Double stack it up
He hit the lotto
Back it up
They gonna bag it up
Getcha combo
Come and gotcha money
The biscuit
With the honey
Feeding al the junkies
The shit gonna get ugly
Bloody
And bare face
Ammo the arms race
You can pin it on the head
That these niggas hellraise
Riding the Chevrolet the coupe
The delray
The cops been on patrol
Patron and Bombay
Niggas on they third strike
Forgot to touch base
You say you ride for dogs
Until you get hit with stray
What a day
What a day mothafucka
If you aint with the shits
Get out the way mothafucka
All black caddy
Get it rinsed mothafucka
Go and get the 5% tint
Mothafucka
And don’t forget to towel them rims mothafucka
Jesus got ya phone
Aint afraid to call ya number
Shoulda left yo ass on read
You been sinning all summer
You can jump the fence
Just in time for last supper
Bubba called me up
On the low
Thats my hitta
Drunk
Passed out on the floor
Hold ya liquor
Bubba called me up
On the low
Thats my hitta
Drunk
Passed out on the floor
Hold ya liquor

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