Samsa - Burfi lyrics

L I double-r bayside trainline Grew up on bu*ter 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 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 d** 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 embarra**ing, 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 ma**es 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