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
I said America the beautiful
Land of free, home of brave
Everyone is born and raised to think like a dead man
When you alive you the lowest
badly needs that can wiat
(wi-at? That's a new English
Word which means wait)
I've been waiting for some reaction
To the album from American
Listeners
Being here in America doesn't make you an American
Being born here in America doesn't make you an American
Why if birth made you an American you
I'm accepted
By mainstream America and good in the piece
Now niggas wanna talk all greasy (why)
Like they ain't used to open up for
Me in New York on tv
means "victory helper"
Whole name means "protector"
Shorten it by two letters, without the I-R at the end
The reincarnated Gil Scott livin' in
We know Rome wasn't built in a day
And my niggas built America, thanks
God told me stay patient
I can have American dreams while awake
I'm just tryna
the album dropped
White Lexus before I had a deal
Ask Bun B about me
This ain't no snap back, a nigga been trill
By the way, fuck your math
You ain't
And to me, we have a culture that, uh
Is surpassed by, by, by, by no other civilization, but we don't know anything about it
So again, I think I've
put an extra lime on my water glass (I'm so sorry)
An hour later here she come by walking past
(I hate to be a pest but my son would love your
have to be signed by a production company or be in a group? And he said, No, Asian women don't make it in America. No one buys from Asian women. This is
inhale
Been in custody before, but never in jail
Baby, I love you like America
Don't talk to me fly
But I promise you if you do, bitch
I'll black ya eye
America
Real niggas stand if your fake I ain't hearin' ya
And I don't need you on my album to sell
My name rings bells, so take it to hell
This, is for
and paper airplanes
And rare records
He had around a million and sixty
To change America through music was his hope
And to make some money because he was
and Batcave Studios
Shout out to everybody that participated
In this mixtape man
Look out for the album, Flamers
3: Hottest in America, coming soon
Documentary
to decimate the dark, nuclear rain to set us aflame
Obscured by a curtain of venom from space in the name of science
Fall to your knees, pray to a last
chere
And y'all wants me to be forgiving out chere
I'm supposed to live by Christian ideas
But being homophobic could kill your career
So I switched
of plenty
But of want
Nay less destruction
Truth be told America
When did you forget the abject cycle of governance of history's pendulum you abide by
the place where I want to raise my kids
I don't know what everybody seems to think this is
It ain't a game, ther is no reign, they want America crushed
If you
Bongo By The Way
I wake up every morning on the same shit
I smoke my 'Wood to the roach like I ain't rich
Niggas I used to hang with, is still
playin' by your rules
"Sleeping With the Enemy" was album number two
Let's take a look around
And see which one of you all
Gotta balls to put me out
Here's
You might be your city's
But I'm America's
Fill in the blanks, kill 'em with thanks
You know I'm just a flight away
If you want it you could take
a reflection of your heart. That words alone could never capture. When I write a Christmas song, it is almost always born from a moment in my life, inspired by
shoulder... ? Aw, you're fulla shit, man... ah, listen, by the way, before I go on; did you get those white albums I sent ya with the pencil on the front... ?
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