Tekst piosenki
[Verse 1] I'ma throw it like Santana Jo-han, yo man is a ho like damn Santa Lemme illustrate like Dan Hanna What I am, see this man is a grandstanda I'm a grand planna, and what I want is 40 acres, no mule, land in Atlanta Sand in Havana, ran to Indiana Then came back for the green like Bruce Banner Used to rock a bandana And dream of driving in a car same color as a ban-ana But now I'm smarter than a fifth grader Which hater wanna try to rub it in like hand sani- -tizer, realize that I'm a lot wiser But I won't blow my top like a hot geyser So put away the damn camera I don't smoke coco, po po on the damn scanner Hoping they can apprehend, African- American men in a planned manner But I ain't fallin' for the okey-doke So back away, and turn yourself around like the hokey poke Is this a racist nation or is it just my imagination Like the song that Smokey wrote [Hook] Tonight on this very mic you about to hear, I swear, the best darn artist of the year So so cheerio yell scream bravo, also, if you didn't know, this is called Da' Pro I'm-I'm-I'm-I'm-I'm a professional, and that's no question yo [Verse 2] I be the... Gateway, better know the fact The way that some believe the weed might lead to the coke or crack I'mma take you onto harder shit This a starter kit To bring back what is dope in rap The game's up in traction right now And that shit on the radio: broken back Or worse yet: stroke attack You like it rough? It's the Brooklyn Strangler Choke a track I be hopin' that Maybe one day, them old clubs I used to go to: open back I'm so nostalgic, I'mma yoke a cat Because of the fact he stepped on my Croker sacks Nah I'm lyin', never had a pair Where I'm from 40 Belows and fatigues was the outer wear Want y'all to hear me loud and clear If you don't care for the real shit then get outta here [Hook]
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