Lyrics:
High Wycombe, England, grew up and died in Buckinghamshire, England by miraculous assumption C. AD14/17 where he is known as Infant at the age recorded
body’s snowin’
Ex girl mad cause I was hoein’
Can’t even trip, they say I’m chosen
I’m just gon’ do this shit for fun!
Just havin’ fun
Choppa got a kick
and spendin' money for the Dopamine
So it seems, a surge is all I really need, fill my greed
Yeah an M.A.D. is a guy or a girl like you
That never followed
heart
So shout it out loud all around the world
There ain't no such thing as real American girls
You grew up a military son, daddy said you're just
the grounds of (?) we've left behind
Turned back by the foot of the doorway
Never lost and found
We've been too long American dreaming
I think we've all
chatter
3 American pageants
All queens of blackness
Even under the sea, Ariel's head loc'd
Ain't No way these black girls getting stopped
No way
You better
a beautiful mind
So many girls I see are wild and fuckable
But I'm looking for my queen my Clair Huxtable
The black american dream, sounds so wonderful
wanna end and say “goodbye”
But girl, before you go
“I’m always here, you know”
Everyday
When it is sun or rainy day
All my head keep calling your name
I
abducted by aliens?
Did he yearn to climb higher
Than us middling homo sapiens?
Gone before his time?
Trapped inside the grind of his American mind?
Whatever
But we got 'em gathered and hit the road again.
Chewin' snoose and spittin' in a bottle.
With country music blastin' on the radio.
Talkin' girls
need a nasty girl, it could be you, eh!
I won't lie, I love P-you-S-S-why, (why?)
'Cause I never let it walk on by, or any slice of the American pie
Well she was an american girl
Raised on promises
She couldnt help thinkin that there
Was a little more to life
Somewhere else
After all it was
things we Seeing on the screen and we Wanna redeem it
We just gotta keep dreaming aye
Scroll down my feed
And all I see
Nice cars, girls, and money, aye
and the feel
Of a real live girl
Nothing can beat getting swept off your feet
By a real live girl
Dreams of you but don't compare with a hunk
and the constitution, reflect the thinking
Of the founding fathers, that this was, to be a nation
By white people, and for white people. Native americans,
Blacks,
At The Atrium
Its all Hell I'm Still Makin Plays
Right By The Stadium
We Look Like A Gymnasium
Your Boys Might Be Just Takin 'Em
Women Take A Look At Me
Recognize
these
Diamonds ain't real or somthin', ha
All of this shoutin' gon' get
Me killed for nothin', ha
Nigga fuck that I'm gon' ball 'til I fall
From Calton by
it outside
Before his little girl learns to talk
Hopes he can get it all figured out
Before the judge says that he can walk
Chorus
Cause it's
and shit man, word up
Why'all niggaz fuck with my girl why'all niggaz better tell me
Tell me or something be, word up
Tell Mya, and tell you? Calm, you're
dem kinda facety
But the personality's like a pastry (sweet)
North American girls captivate me
If me nuh careful, dem get all mi life savings
But no
of make-believe
Evangeline
I still remember
This little girl
Black eyes just staring
At this mean old world
Went off to find
Some American dream
Train
Well she was an american girl
Raised on promises
She couldn't help thinkin that there
Was a little more to life
Somewhere else
After all it was
Cheeto
Chantin' like the santa domingo
Loc's mortuary, livin' close to the cemetery
Met a girl named Carrie, she told me she loved me, kinda scary
Like
Ladies and gentlemen
Fellow Americans
Lady Americans
This is James Brown
I wanna talk to you about one of our
Most deadly, killers in
.jpg/300px-Count_Basie_(1955_Kriegsmann_portrait_-_square_crop).jpg "Count Basie & His All American Rhythm Section")
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