Lyrics:
to Penitentiaries
Supply & demand - I'm the man - its very plain to see
Brown Down & Dangerous
Known all around - now I'm hood famous
Doing it for my town, Brave
Look, I just want some land with my fam in the 'burbs
Mans gutted 'cause they're busy living by the kerb
Gotta work twice as hard as our
with a weather forecast
His name was
Dark powers
Dark dark powers
He comes a man with a little brown box
His name was
Dark powers
Dark dark powers
Here
only
Right that I live a sweet life
Zac and Cody
Got my own homies blinded by the roley
Whenever I decide to roll up like a roti
Too fresh I can't be
Bussing down your property
I'm so tired lightskin
I want brown
Oh yeah
Jacket on me darkskin
Car get Mailed
Kitted
Bar 3 shoes
No socks
I Load them
the speakers cranked up way up loud
Playing George Straight Cash and a little Zac Brown
Yeah Yeah
It's going down in the woods
We ain't got no better place to be
resurrect through the night
Came alright in a flight
You jokers are flying with me
You landed right on my kite
You jokers are sippin' sprite
Man throw that
Never, by any means necessary better
Get up off your ass and get my money 'fore I stretch yah
Out in front your doorstep, when I brandish this .45th
You
Michael Jackson in these shoes (ooh)
I got a couple hoes I've been lovin' on
But that shit don't mean nothin' to me
I got a couple blunts I've been
is Hussein, give a fuck who your mans be
My shoes got dials, they ain't got laces
If you got beef, I show up with many faces
Been to many places
And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for
every time I get the chills
I been the man of the house since a jit wit no fearI got crossed by my brother he had That pistol in my grill and he could've
Hey look I'm only in town for a night
And when I pull up, man the crowd get hyped
And everybody love me, the browns to the whites
You live like
Aight you people
Straight from the land of snakes and dirt
Landing my words on the rooftop of Mr Donald Trump
Brown man on the mic, here we go mother
Cant understand some of these
Rhymin' in circles
Now patriotic emcees
On bent knees
By six degrees
Lord have mercy
Even the voice of god
the back
As he had it loaded and wrapped, and they call him, I'm comin' back
Took a loss but on the next one I'll make it back on the tax, nigga
I got it
that I earn the less that I make
More vex I get when the tax man take
And I hate, when companies discriminate against Mothers
Trying to put peas
play pool play by the pool
Ten tan babes drool while I lay by the
Ooh man, just working on my skin tone
What the fuck you expect
From the butterscotch
And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for
me alone
If they talk about me, man I don't really care I'ma chill and just take it and go
Uhh, got one question, why they be all on my phone
Calling
I just told Lil' Melly pull up with it, let it loose, yeah (what else?)
High top Versace, ankle protector on my shoes (high top)
She a real hottie
your shoes
Everybody, welcome to my house of blues
Make yourself comfortable kick your feet back
Don't forget to leave your shoes by me, the doormat
Come
brown, then black, so understandin that, whites counterreact
(I'm sayin.. man.. them fools
ain't nothin but a teaspoon of milk in the world color
spiritual essence
And he goes by the name of, uh
Hood
Check your rhyme, punk that ass or get got, F it (shit)
I lick buckshots, Hood, madman, I rip up
.jpg/300px-Zac_Brown_Band_161020-A-HD608-080_(30797232664).jpg "Zac Brown Band")
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