Big Baby Gandhi - Scum In Amerika lyrics

[Verse 1: Big Baby Gandhi] I'm chilling in the hood with my people Refills of E pills, y'all already know how the weed feels Spin sentence (?) mathematical, let you go with a sabbatical She glad I pulled out when I did, though She love the kid, yo, pull out a dil*o for real, yo Shorts down to the steel toe(?), who really ill though? Y'all alright, but it's mostly the Gandhi My new wife is that asti spumante You getting married to the game like Jumanji I'm sipping lemonade in the shade by a palm tree Richard Roundtree style freestyle zombie Gandhi, list of places you can find me: Queens borough, Queens borough, Queens borough Might sit by a pond like I'm Thoreau (Queens!) Peep the rhyme style, sonny Tryna work my way to the prime time money Who wanna dine on dimes(?) five times twenty Five nine Tims on, five five ugly Big baby, got my hand on a labia Habeas corpus, I'm a corpse in Arabia Poor in Bangladesh, scum in America Word, word, I'm just scum in America Been on the bottom and the bottom been on me Plans to make grands from the grams or a Grammy Keep the grams handy and thank your grandmammy Or else, you could get took like candy From a baby, but not the Big Baby Nah, never that, not the Big Baby Late night show with the rap George Lopez Cooling by the back door with crackwho*es and dopeheads Black jeans and pro Keds, it's like a uniform Flip the script from Sanskrit to Cuneiform Forty-year-old rappers move with the coolie on (What else?) I'm in the back of a limo eating Grey Poupon I've been rhyming since the mayor was Giulian Rhyming since Bloomberg, you sitting in your room, nerd Holla, Big Baby, do a lot of things make them chickens go crazy Holla, Big Baby, do a lot of things make them chickens go crazy Holla, Big Baby, do a lot of things make them chickens go crazy Holla, Big Baby, do a lot of things make them chickens go crazy Holla, Big Baby [Verse 2: Big Baby Gandhi] Y'all rhyme for white girl, I rhyme for Sean Price Y'all lying about white girl, I rhyme like five mics Remind 'em of Mike Tys, find 'em I might bite Rappers at home (?) might be found with the night light f** around, I win six rings like Mike might Grew up with a knife, I could slice a nice slice Nah, but yo, chill, the Gandhi non-violent Find me at the park, 'fore you find me, start wilding My bad, that's that immigrant speak Only eat on the meat that the immigrants eat Grew up on healthy diet of chickens with beans They like, Gandhi yo, why you talk a lot of sh** I'm like yo, why you look like Peja Stojakavic I'm like, ma why you look like Marshawn Lynch? Last time I seen her, I ain't have a hardon since Team's like Gandhi, you keeping it too real I put on Arcade Fire and she switched it to Dru Hill Damn it, I'm too ill, too sk**ed If I don't get hands on money then who will? Mahatma, damn, I'm up in the game now Never be the same now Shine off the chain, blaaaooowww Whole team like "How?" That's right, all my homies haters See me on the block and they do opponents favors