Lyrics:
Written by Glen Burtnik, Bob Berger, Tommy Shaw, Dennis DeYoung
Lead Vocals by Tommy Shaw
Somebody lookin' for the answer,
Somebody dyin'
Lord I'm on my way
Oh and it won't be long
Lord and I'm holding on
Pushin' my weight against stone walls
Playin' a guitar given by grandpa'
He
Hers won't be the only heart you're breaking (Go gotcha)
She's somebody's daughter (your daddy's gotcha)
(You are loved by someone who loved you first)
a bottle,
or a vape or a cig or model, no
aint like the rest of the world and culture
i wont sit in my sorrow,
aint gonna do what she did,
fill the space with
clearer
I won't let my life pass me by
Stop feelin' sorry for myself
Fish are biting, I'll throw out my line
I've got to love somebody today
I've got
Love somebody, yes, I do
Love somebody, yes, I do
Love somebody, yes, I do
I love somebody but I won't say who
Handsome, say, he's six feet
I don't see that I'm strong, then I won't be
This is what my daddy told me
I wished he would hold me
A little more
Than he did
But he
culture, use it or you lose it
Vulture culture, choose it or refuse it
Hollywood is calling, won't you join the dance
Moving onto Wall Street, why not take
buckets we'll still be Cool
All our Art is picked Apart by Vultures
And everyone but us profits off our Culture
Black lives matter but not as much as Pepsi
plus (yeah)
Gratitude is a must, yeah
Me see blessings fall by mi right hand
Buss a toast fi di friends weh tek off heavy load
One time did sit down
you party in Arizona
Addicted to fashionnova
lashes and mimosas
Sunday funday is the culture
Must of forgot it was winter where you from
Found somebody
tales for this young black male
Some see me stranded in this land of hell, jail, and crack sales
Hustlers hardly think of culture
Or the repercussions
for niggaz that shoot people
Frontin' like you gon' squeeze nah no ya' won't
You don't want it with the Bronx nah no ya' don't
You a phony ass fairy
tales for this young black male
Some see me stranded in this land of hell, jail, and crack sales
Hustlers hardly think of culture
Or the repercussions
you when my light blow
Got more good than dirt to throw, and I won't pull
Between the halo, and a fork-pitch
Suffocated by my rhymes
Rest your
Be somebody, be somebody, be somebody
Be somebody, be somebody, be somebody
I can tell by looking in your eyes
There is something on your mind
fucking song
Let's do this though
(By any means necessary)
This is for the culture let's go
A fool with it the flow old school
Let me show you how a grown
my love, I only shoot to kill
My energy risin'
I see the light
But I won't be blinded by wicked minds
'Cause everybody wants to be somebody
like, talk like, dance like, yet we just stand by
We take all we want from black culture, but will we show up for black lives?
We want to dress like,
Instruments
You talk about the environment and
The Nigerian way of dressing
Definitely we are influenced by some things
In the western culture
But that doesn't
Slide on the culture, we back to life
Ain't doing no beef, you grab the phone I grab the knife
I'm from the bando, where it don't matter day or night
and crack sales
Hustlin' and heart be a nigga culture
Or the repercussions while bustin' on backstabbin' vultures
Sellin' my soul for material wishes, fast
there
Somebody to hold, somebody who cares
I'll do anything to find you (I wanna do)
I won't let you go, no, no
I'd do anything to find you (I wanna
They say for a party, I say it's dogma to America's artful lie
Sniffin' the party line, intoxicated from white
That fake superiority created by
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