Cyborg Control
I'mma do it like this, I'mma do it like that
I'mma do it like this, I'mma do it like that
I'mma do it like this, I'mma do it like that
I'mma do it like this, I'mma do it like that
9th Wonder on the track, fact
Chilling up in the house on my Cordoroy Couch
Mama, papa went out, free crib, what it's about
In the heart of Bedstuy, just imagine the feeling
Art all over my wall, keep hearing closer to the ceiling
TV stuff on the TV, The Wayans Brothers on repeat
Or Jamie Foxx on Centric, always catch my attention
Stepping outside of my room, on my way to the kitchen
Ain't eat nothing since morning, now my stomach is twitching
Ate it back in my room, finding something to rock
Sneaking out to the hangout, mom don't condone the block
Stepping outside the door, gotta stop by the store
The Koreans is mad, African buyers galore
Hold up, there go the bus, can't wait another second
It's too hot to be patient, pay for my snack and I'm jetting
On my way to the bush bumping my music loud
A dude interrupts my jam, tells me about his style
Then he hands me a card, I'm mean mugging him hard
He made me stop my song right on my favorite part
Finally off the bus, walking slow up the ave
Delli's and golden crust, Jamaicans dollar (?)
Stop and get me some peaches, then I head to LeBron's
Homie open the door, say what's up to his moms
Put my bag on the floor, then we compose a beat
After like 30 minutes go see what's up in the street
There go (?) started up a game of tabs
T-A-P to my zip, y'all know that ranger wack
Like an hour get passed, then we starting to get hungry
Back in LeBron crib, he usually got the munchies
Everything going good until my mama call
Say she on the way home and ask what I want from the store
I say nothing, she hang up, then I'm grabbing my stuff
Ain't even said goodbye, heading straight for the bus
I snuck up outta the house, and my mama Jamaican
The bus still ain't arrived, ain't no time to be waiting
So I run to the crib, put my key in the door
Then I look to the sky and pray she ain't get here before
Started turning the knob, seems like the coast was clear
Looking in the living room, there was nobody there
Then I go to my room and now I'm tripping out
My mama sitting with a belt on my cordoroy couch
I'mma do it like this, I'mma do it like that
I'mma do it like this, I'mma do it like that
I'mma do it like this, I'mma do it like that
9th Wonder on the track, fact
Chilling up in the house on my Cordoroy Couch
Mama, papa went out, free crib, what it's about
In the heart of Bedstuy, just imagine the feeling
Art all over my wall, keep hearing closer to the ceiling
TV stuff on the TV, The Wayans Brothers on repeat
Or Jamie Foxx on Centric, always catch my attention
Stepping outside of my room, on my way to the kitchen
Ain't eat nothing since morning, now my stomach is twitching
Ate it back in my room, finding something to rock
Sneaking out to the hangout, mom don't condone the block
Stepping outside the door, gotta stop by the store
The Koreans is mad, African buyers galore
Hold up, there go the bus, can't wait another second
It's too hot to be patient, pay for my snack and I'm jetting
On my way to the bush bumping my music loud
A dude interrupts my jam, tells me about his style
Then he hands me a card, I'm mean mugging him hard
He made me stop my song right on my favorite part
Finally off the bus, walking slow up the ave
Delli's and golden crust, Jamaicans dollar (?)
Stop and get me some peaches, then I head to LeBron's
Homie open the door, say what's up to his moms
Put my bag on the floor, then we compose a beat
After like 30 minutes go see what's up in the street
There go (?) started up a game of tabs
T-A-P to my zip, y'all know that ranger wack
Like an hour get passed, then we starting to get hungry
Back in LeBron crib, he usually got the munchies
Everything going good until my mama call
Say she on the way home and ask what I want from the store
I say nothing, she hang up, then I'm grabbing my stuff
Ain't even said goodbye, heading straight for the bus
I snuck up outta the house, and my mama Jamaican
The bus still ain't arrived, ain't no time to be waiting
So I run to the crib, put my key in the door
Then I look to the sky and pray she ain't get here before
Started turning the knob, seems like the coast was clear
Looking in the living room, there was nobody there
Then I go to my room and now I'm tripping out
My mama sitting with a belt on my cordoroy couch
Credits
Writer(s): Teasley, Del Bueno, Causey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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