Text:
James Homeboy

You're a late child You're a love child It's enough, child That you're so appealing You're appealing, you're appealing To a need that we all have been

Alright I'm gettin tired of your shit You don't never buy me nothin' See every time you come around You got to bring Jim, James, Paul and Tyrone See

on the mic like Joe Jackson Foreign *** feelin?me for my accent Talk like a boss, I can't complain When I do it, it's big like Fulton in St. James I

're doing And you're sure to get dropped like a trick, nothings even up my sleeve A million albums sold and it's hard to believe well it's true homeboy

Chorus) X2 You got them birds I want a few, first ima drop a deuce Homeboy want twelve, I want thirty, boy that?s forty-two Call that pick, that James

can see I'm different G The universal magnificently I rock the party efficiently From the Brooklyn but centered to And I do it so lyrically That you got to give it to me Like Rick James

was the slick one, the little girls liked him And all the little niggaz in the hood, wanted to fight him But Carlo, main nigga James wasn't having that James

off his back, shoes off his feet He's losing all his teeth, now he's out in the street And all of sudden he's like, Jesse James Trying to stick up kids

high on cocaine And then I jump the turnstyle I lost my last token Riding between the cars, pissing, smoking Head for the last car, fluorescent light blackout Policeman tell my homeboy