Ek Shaneesh

I'm from Queens, man, ain't shit to do but cook
Watchin' Tony Bourdain, plus I copped his book
Plus I copped his look, that means T-shirts and jeans
Catch me in my borough chasin' breezers with creame
Squeezes with dreams, do you, I'mma do me
Catch me in my borough burnin' L's, readin' Rumi
Flippin' pies, readin' fries, I'm advising Kabir
Smokin' hash, making cash, spinnin' Sufis, drinkin' beer
Forty kufi rock a sheer, sportin' loosies in the clear
Drinkin' beer, drinkin' beer, probably drinkin' some more beer

Yeah, beers for years
Chuckin' Shaka Zulu type-spears for ears
Jakaya Kikwete, machete, machete
Ek Shaneesh, Cheech, Eddie said speaks, sheesh
Yeah, that's what Ed said
People always follow like Deadheads
Swallowin' red meds, swallowin' blues, too
Various hues, dude, downtown Brown like Yoo-Hoo
Watch it like YouTube, watch it like YouTube
Watch it like YouTube, watch it like YouTube
Whites and pinks, Tyson and Spinks
Yeah, whites and pinks
Whites and pinks, Tyson and Spinks
Yeah, whites and pinks
Yeah, Fazul Abdullah Mohammed
I am a pickup truck, I am America
I am America, I am a pickup truck
I am America, I am America

La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la

Good vibes, literally, yeah, believe that
Listenin' to Cam readin' Gaya Spivak
Listening to Wham and feelin' weird about Naipaul
Fly or Style Warz, war-style Warsaw
Listening to jams where they patois 'bout dem batty boys
Listening to Skin while I'm readin' Arundhati Roy
Drop guap just to bop in the cab home
Back in the day, my pops drove a cab, holmes
This is Sam Selvon with llamas and commas
When I get to rentin' hella Telenovela dramas
With dizzyin' editing, effects and bright colors
Roll around town with a bright crew of brothers
Everybody knows Guantanamo is for lovers
Next four joints could be television covers
Some Richard Hell Rell shit, yeah, I'm real confused
Oh, you rap too, dog? Yeah, I'm real enthused
I feel pretty, I feel pretty pretty
I feel pretty silly, I feel pretty weird, really
I feel better now, Coogi sweater now
Gucci sweater now, coochie wetter now
Who you calling a dandy, our love is like candy
The rich pour brandy, what do the poor pour
Why we at the candy store for? Why we at the Mandy Moore tour?
Band du jour or brand du jour
Or the land before time
The wartime Andy Warhol, the war crime
Nancy Drew, Nancy who, Nancy Reagan in a fancy pants suit
Dancing bear in cahoots with the man who shot ya
Who shot ya, who shot ya, who shot ya, who shot ya
Who shot you, who shot you, who shot you

La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la



Credits
Writer(s): Unknown Writer, Himanshu Suri
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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