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Samsa - Burfi lyrics

L I double-r bayside trainline
Grew up on butter chicken, a double digit waistline
Stubble on my face like
When I'm on a plane ride
People don't wanna sit on the same side
What
Like look at me I'm harmless
I'm wearing a tank top
What could I be armed with
You can have the aisle seat
You can have the armrests
You can have my barf bag
This is not a bomb test
This is not a bomb test
Soccer moms nervous when I'm sitting on a flight
So brown that I'm I'd ticketed at lights
Hot sauce, white sauce, yes, chicken over rice
So brown copped the ali zafar album
Yes, I listened to it twice
Hookah high school parties, always visited the heights
Mom never let me kick it over night
On a curfew, mom wanted me to go to berkley
Dad wanted me to get into islamic clergy
Chachoo said he'd work me in his diner making burfi
“bilkul jasi ghar ke”, I was playing kirby
Nightmare
Dreamland
I was watching He-man
East side queens, never talk to the police man
Please man

Barry said that we can
Tried to get it all done within a weekend
See the same dumb shh up on cspan
Where the change at
Strip the world down like a teen cam

And it's gone in a flash
Everything solved with a bomb and its blast
Long as the promise of cash is involved
No impossible task, like nah, we had no other options with that

Middle east with some peace, yeah, one day
Bodycams on police, yeah, one day
White punk shooting schools, they don't update rules
Cus americans in love with they gunplay

Pow
Someday, sunday
Go to church, amen, god is the one way
[Lyrics from: https:/lyrics.az/samsa/-/burfi.html]
Anybody not on board, aw buddy we deport
We wanna be great again, do what trump say

That man is god awful, compares to none
Melting pot is what makes us american
Still watch during convos, parents judged
From their accents, hmm, think where we're from

Latinos all hoodlums that carry guns right
Criminals, rapists, selling drugs right
Stealing our jobs, it ain't fair to us right
Privileged cops who prepared to cuff right

Hands up, but the cop scared, he bust like
Pow and it's done, was nowhere to run right
One last breath from his pair of lungs
From that night he was tryna get his errands done
Nice

All hail the monarch, the pharaoh king
About to diddle in the East like the Arab Spring
It's embarrassing, let's ban refugees huh?
I just want a slice of that New York Pizza
I've even got a shirt saying “I love Isa”
I drew a little picture of you on my Visa
O Great Conquista-dor
More the type to visit moms on the eastern shore
Than a villain on a felony police report
Ain't you heard it's impolite, watchu eavesdrop for
Phone tap, PAT act, what a turn of events
MAGA turning time back, made em' yearn for the past tense
Gave lady liberty, an urn full of ashes
A term full of facists, a cabinet of flammable gases
Burning our flag with alternative facts
Now we turning our backs to the masses
Fake news, false reporters
Build a wall on the border with caulk and mortar
Not law and order, turn a circus to a theme park
Even if you got a ticket and a green card
America, the darling, the america, the sweetheart, — the police state
From the Bronx to the verrazano freeway
Middle east, Russia, terrorism three-way
Mom doesn't know if she should feel safe, never used to lock doors
Now we check the key fob, now she goes to J Crew, never wears the hijab
Now we make our own chai, never hit the sweet shop
Abbu think we got bugs hidden in the sheetrock
Ammi think I ought to get myself a real job
Too afraid to protest, all we do is read blogs
Never do we bleed out, all we do is treat clots
All it is is foreplay, never hit the g-spot

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