Hit-Boy Ft. Rockie Fresh - Somewhere in America lyrics

rate me

We really just doing this shit

To piss you niggas off even more

(Hope that tells you somethin')

[Verse 1: Hit-Boy]

Look, it’s that towel under the

Door rap

Finding notices on the floor mats

Five hundred dollar smoking fines

Can’t let’em blow my high

Cause I really can’t afford that

Versatility’s where we different nigga

Check my Wiki nigga I’m jiggy nigga

And I’ve been eating good for a minute

They just startin to get it

I stay hungry like Twista's sister

We never knowin what tomorrow

Holds

So I’m just in Toronto,

Wit Toronto hoes

Ridin' with the city’s Obama

We Maybach reclinin'

My thoughts is I need higher goals

(Money)

And really I got a new agenda

I heat it up, you niggas just

A warm December

I’m leaving dust like Olympian track runners

Put up mad numbers, you niggas

Missing like bad jumpers

I’m in America, where American

Bitches don’t eat

Italian lettuce so nigga

Watch where you sittin'

Notice shit, Reminiscin' of all the shit that you

Grew up in

Wishin you call up on me when you

Needed a hit and shit

I’m busting at bustin made, fuckin lames

Roll wit some Rio Alto niggas

Steady screamin, "fuck a flame!"

I-E to the A nigga, my team finna win nigga

Ridley wit a Benz in it

You niggas is fuckin' gay!

Pause

And there’s no offense to those, but

I got more haters

Than I got hoes...JK

I just lied on that line before

You know these ladies treat me like a bicycle, ride out

[Hook: Hit-Boy]

And I’m just smashing on the

Critics with a vengeance, fuck the feelings and opinions

Niggas talk

Before they listen

That’s the picture, that's that intentional cynical

Fuck nigga, get off my genitals

Before I come back and let it loose

I’m over the top and I’m ready to

Shoot

(Look...I gotta let that shit breath one time)

(That nigga Rockie checkin' in)

(Yeah, we gotta get to that special part of the beat,

You know when that shit drop)

(Double MG)

[Verse 2: Rockie Fresh]

I just wish that I could’ve

Appeared on Entourage

Smoked out on Oprah couch

Chillin' wit my moms

I’m blowing up those

So everything I do is bomb

And every time I cruise I turn a fool

Into a peepin tom

Jerry Sandusky wouldn't feel these boys

Probably cause his pussy weak

You see it every time you meet

Its lights, camera, action

Anytime that Rockie speak

Day I ask and them boys lost like Mr.Cheech

And me I stay a-bove par, shit

I done got so high

I hit my head on Mars

And this bitch say her man not

A fan of stars

He said my shit be weak

I got candy bars

But her fingers still stay on my

Dick

Be Twix

She started workin' and fell in love with the Kick

Its cat eyes everytime she gotta look at the shine

Pay day, when I'm finished

I get back to my grind

I got a beautiful mind

Its always racin'

And I’m about to take another lap

Stating real facts

Like a motherfucking Snapples cap

Got the juice, two pockets back

Purify, it is intact

Keep it true, may goto Fiji

Let the homies scale the map

And I’m stumbling on honeys

While I’m sipping liquor

I get paid to ride kicks

Now ain't that a kicker

I got these names writing paragraphs in the pictures

Alot of rappers sensitive, so I dont fuck wit niggas

Uh, but if you real I got a blunt on me

Uh, and I'mma pass it if you open

Uh, cause somewhere in America

Uh, Amanda Bynes is still smokin'

Thanks to itsBiishop for correcting these lyrics

Thanks to john c for correcting these lyrics