Pa**alacqua - "Banglatown" lyrics

[mister] Yo i'm here to say peace to all my people And any other people Refusing to talk to me but they spying through their peepholes 2015 -- time to stop being sheepish And green, drop ego Finish with the frog splash, Rob Van or D'Lo Parted with Supino Now, grinning like Amicci w/ the Burnside amigos Amigas, etc, reveling in the storm My brother, this kettle's just getting warm This is Banglatown [blaksmith] These streets is irregular They read like novellas Come to our shows Say what's up Or email us Ain't no need to be jealous Just a couple o' rap guys On the porch With a couple o' laptops Playing with satire Planting the seeds Drinking a brew While catching a breeze 'cept when it's zero degrees We hibernating On the island Klinger sliding Not enough parking spots to go around In Banglatown [mister] Third french press, reading some Lefsetz Eating cheese pierogi and falafel in excess Flight House suite, sneak peeking their best yet Never no fresh breath Dinner to breakfast Puffy bread and garlic sauce be the new chex mix No discussion, nor a need to protest this Still blessed with that Big Money Candle lit Shining on this wood paneling In Banglatown [blaksmith] Drinking the carrot juice Discarding the carrot tops Ignoring the stop lights But reading the tarot cards Figure there's better odds To make it home faster Paradox New Dodge Reggaeton master Jukebox blaster Fat belly dancers Eating fish and crabs Pisces, cancers IPhone cameras Capture the arrest The high Benghali standard Capture all the rest In Banglatown [mister] Yeah the winters are rough But sh**, summers in the city are scrumptious Keep it third wave for my bubbly sunchips And drink Two Hearted cause it's what we do here Work hard play hard Keep it moving Preach, no pulpit Speak no bullsh** Sumthink Detroit Sumthink Detroit Yeah i repeated it Peep the Rap Genius Banglatown [blaksmith] Log cabin houses With a painted clock If they breaking through the back door Change the locks A knucklehead I'll let you be Fool me once, shame on me Fool me twice, that ain't right That's a stolen SUV Where they chop in the backyard And grow in the hoop house Trimming the tall weeds Throwing the fruit out Guess it's all bad 'cuz it's one with the mold I'm dusting it off My humble abode In Banglatown