Butterfly Knife - Bambu

Uh, this ain’t a rap song

You know where you at homes

You know there’s a hundred of us in that cadillac

You know Filipinos though

Might spill my 40 on the couch, but my mom ain’t trippin' though

Cos she got plastic wrapped around it like a key of coke

I’m from the blood of savages they brought to world fairs

Chained up to a pole for caucasians to point and stare scared

The one’s who could not drop from the calibers the army had

So they made higher calibers: the .45 mag

White flag, drench it in blood until it go dark red

You ain’t gonna know until that hundred of us is outside lit ready to bump heads

Hunt heads, that cannibal appetite buried way down in my DNA, being a G and a

target to DEA make it unlikely I give a fuck anyway

We are the reason marines wore a leather neck

I’m talking island style, we cut ear to ear, right-left

We call that a Manilla-cut necklace

And I bet you my knife click in like one flip you see blade

Then I get Leo Giron on you gonna catch a veterano-ass fade

I’m just saying

Well, I guess it’s a rap song

You know where you at homes

I’m feeling like Mike dream, holding a krylon when that mic on

My mommy told me that the bishop from the village church, took young women to

see god but he would rape them first

I’m such a Debby downer

The local out-of-towner

I already know the issues surrounding the native homies

Out in Little Earth, the homies in CenCal, the homies who stuck in the federal

box but don’t know when they get out

I come from Calcut just to scrap against the Spanish sword

And that’s been with me since before they cut my momma’s cord

Is that resistance?

I repeat words from my older tracks

And that ain’t really different from these other fucker’s dumb raps

Except the shit I say

Go rally folks like Abbie did

Ka Roger in a dodgers jersey challenging all of your policies

And when I say Bernie, and mean burn that fucking CVS

Grab me a couple of 40s, I got a few homies the homies just laid to rest

And I bet that my knife click, and like one flip you see blade, then I go drunk

uncle on go ghetto on your motherfucking face

(Old man)

You should see my aim to decapitate, I’ll take your head off

Well after the show I might slash you

(Bambu)

Yeah it’s a rap song

You know where we at homes

We in the middle of literal poverty when we go back home

We immigrant minded

Criminal Science

Will bend the rules a bit

The news will trick these stupid kids into viewing the world through a crucifix

(Filipino?)

They have sold off another election to give to the riches and fill up our

prisons and let them go at it turning these good kids into the victims

(Oldman)

When I lead with a thrust

When I want to take take half of your body, and perfect delivery

And I said that I cut you in your eyes

That is perfection

(Bambu)

We gonna get it open like a butter fly knife (repeated)

Butterfly knife (repeated)