lirik lagu homeboy sandman – richardsun
[verse 1]
mighty morphin
unsoftedned -ssortment a flying saucer to the flying fortress
a fork in the road i drove to in a forklift
for lifting the fortune, i stripped from the fraudulent
they done put a fork in em, my sources are the paupers
i paint us a portraits, recordings
the corner is my corner office
the natives are nauseous from inhaling the nonsense, it’s noxious
same pee pee caca since bush vs dukakis
k!ller coppers is clocking the clockers
who’s out to pocket the betty crocker
they chopping like benihana, end up like jimmy hoffa
mi casa su casa, my mind’ll wander
while modern monsters take pride in convincing minors to kiss the kilbasa
got cousins getting accosted in kinshasa
pentecostals with christ on the cross
and ese’s that holler “la raza!”
entire rosters are that’s often off the rocker
pills for poppin
mamas and papas throughout the province is crying out like chewbacca
could spend an hour just counting the commas of numbers
offered for offing the offspring of sara connor
it’s getting hotter under my collar than gaza or ghana
for every line that i write up, i might end up in a line-up
or ocean’s bottom, sleeping with the mullosks
but that’s not a problem i pondered
because apollo done made me a promise, allah done made me a prophet
and taking part in this garbage is only part of the process
all the while these labels wild like letting me be sovereign
is doing me solid
tell em chill for a minute, doug e fresh said silence
but they can’t accept solace from the cents and dollars
s-x and violence
so shorty never had pride but she had pradas
shorty never saw his prom, but he had promise
bunch of soap operas
wrap it up, put it in the stores no problem
we making no progress
forget pursuing a b.a., just pump haracas
i pity the fools like b.a. baracus
youngins is fresh-mouthed without binaca
peeps gone too far to peep without binoculars
and i could, just, write something, for the right rubbish
they hype brothers until whole tribes don’t roll right like a tight rubber
my night’s slumbering are type numbered
i write numbers to right brothers, still alive
still believe we can fly like the wright brothers
live my life kinda like bubba
stiff-lipped, except his lower, mine’s upper
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