BOY HOOD (feat. PJ Morton & Trombone Shorty)
Candy cane, jump rope
Cornbread and pig lip
Hot fries, holy water
Superdome cheese dip
Perched on da fence, Po'boys in da yard
Don't mess with my rug or my season salt boy
I know where he be, know where he come from
Hot boy taking over for the twenty-two thousands
Uhhh na na na na, no limit soldier
Home is where the heart stay
Where the Pelicans and the Saints play
The eagle land on Frenchman and the sparrow land on Sunday
When pop pop wouldn't give me ends (give me ends)
Grandma was a ATM (was a ATM)
Buying bubble gum and M&M's (M&M's)
I just had to rot my teeth out
Basketball under the treehouse
Too short to catch a rebound
Maybe that wasn't my callin'
But you could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
From New York down to New Orleans
You could still see me ballin'
You could still me
Popeyes when they had that red, white, and blue bag
Puttin on that Sportin' Waves underneath my durag
If yo' line pushed back, or your shoes dirty
Don't come around here, bes' stay home, ya heard me?!
It's the time of dem naturals, Priestly, Satchel
Bayou maharajahs, Nat King and Satchmo
If you see him then and even if ya see him now
It's the same Jon Jon with that same gold crown, ya heard me?
When pop pop wouldn't give me ends (give me ends)
Grandma was a ATM (was a ATM)
Buying bubble gum and M&M's (M&M's)
I just had to rot my teeth out
Basketball under the treehouse
Too short to catch a rebound
Maybe that wasn't my callin'
But you could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
From New York down to New Orleans
You could still see me ballin'
You could still see
(Go ahead P.J.)
I could still remember the mornings
Breakfast cooking half asleep and still yawnin'
Yeah, yeah, yeah
It's time from Zulu so we better get goin'
No place like New Orleans, yeah
I said I'm far from home but I always represent, yeah
I thought I had so much time, I don't know where it went
But now that I'm grown I know what it all meant
No place like New Orleans, yeah, yeah
(Trombone Shorty and them boys)
You could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
Cornbread and pig lip
Hot fries, holy water
Superdome cheese dip
Perched on da fence, Po'boys in da yard
Don't mess with my rug or my season salt boy
I know where he be, know where he come from
Hot boy taking over for the twenty-two thousands
Uhhh na na na na, no limit soldier
Home is where the heart stay
Where the Pelicans and the Saints play
The eagle land on Frenchman and the sparrow land on Sunday
When pop pop wouldn't give me ends (give me ends)
Grandma was a ATM (was a ATM)
Buying bubble gum and M&M's (M&M's)
I just had to rot my teeth out
Basketball under the treehouse
Too short to catch a rebound
Maybe that wasn't my callin'
But you could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
From New York down to New Orleans
You could still see me ballin'
You could still me
Popeyes when they had that red, white, and blue bag
Puttin on that Sportin' Waves underneath my durag
If yo' line pushed back, or your shoes dirty
Don't come around here, bes' stay home, ya heard me?!
It's the time of dem naturals, Priestly, Satchel
Bayou maharajahs, Nat King and Satchmo
If you see him then and even if ya see him now
It's the same Jon Jon with that same gold crown, ya heard me?
When pop pop wouldn't give me ends (give me ends)
Grandma was a ATM (was a ATM)
Buying bubble gum and M&M's (M&M's)
I just had to rot my teeth out
Basketball under the treehouse
Too short to catch a rebound
Maybe that wasn't my callin'
But you could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
From New York down to New Orleans
You could still see me ballin'
You could still see
(Go ahead P.J.)
I could still remember the mornings
Breakfast cooking half asleep and still yawnin'
Yeah, yeah, yeah
It's time from Zulu so we better get goin'
No place like New Orleans, yeah
I said I'm far from home but I always represent, yeah
I thought I had so much time, I don't know where it went
But now that I'm grown I know what it all meant
No place like New Orleans, yeah, yeah
(Trombone Shorty and them boys)
You could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
You could still see me ballin'
Credits
Writer(s): Troy Andrews, Paul Morton Jr, Sunny Levine, Jon Batiste, Jahaan Akil Sweet
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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