Lyrics: Maurice Shadee Clarke/John Barnes
Music: Fabrice Creestal Ferrando
Pay dues, make moves, show and prove... you know the rules.
Tie your shoes mother****er, tie your shoes mother****er
White girl wit' the black snake moan
I'm finna take home
Is she really wit' me
Or in it for CM JONES
CM JONES, CM JONES, CM JONES
Naked pictures always end up in my phone
Is it my occupation?
The pigment of my skin
Or is it just fascination?
Find out, let's find out, find out
My Mama told me b***h step ya game up
I raised you better than that
All that superficial shit don't be dwelling on that
I'm just a young ass b***h
Who just happen to rap
With that Rosa Parks flow
Get yo ass in the back
It's all good
My b***h it's all good
From the burbs to the hood
Still wish a b***h would, like I should
How it better be
Like If I die right now
I guess that’s just my destiny
I always keep a girl that come second like the letter B
Keep that ass in my lap like Santa
And then I Sway
'Cause I ain't got all the answers
Yea I ain't got all the answers
What?
[Blu]
Some people pay dues, others break rules
No matter what, we can’t walk the same shoes
Since grade school, I knew to stay cool
Not knowing it would later define the name Blu
Age two I made due, age eight I drank brews
Broke curfew, running out doing things you can’t do
I say blame Hugh, he stayed true
If they knew what I was doing they’d call me a straight jew
Original habiru, my spiritual prelude
Telling people im god, only on april fool’s
83 I came through, solo baby boom
Out the womb rocking fruit of a looms, who would have knew
Met a smooth cameroon one beautiful afternoon
Last june, sitting on a half moon, mad rude
Bad mood, blame it on the b*****s with attitudes
Now I’m in a rap group, I used to shoot mad hoops
Trying to go pro, but instead became a sad snoop
Ask zeus, the angle on my ego is obtuse
Leaving mics abused I’ve used the wrong tools
But salute to all the hoes at shows, that ain't shit