HHC - ladrones (feat. genaro jr., Much, cal maeleo, Mouti the Menace & Alexia)

Back up for the construction function
We bout to turn this thing out
With elation, gentrification

Round, and around, and around, and around, and around, and- and- and-
Round, and around, and around, and around, and around, and- and- and-
(Too slow let go, too slow let, go)
Round, and around, and around, and around, and around, and- and- and-
(Back for more, they back for more)
Round, and around, and around, and around, and around, and- and- and-
(Back for more, they back for more)

Peddling up and down the paid newly beige concrete
What we do now? Who knows
Our way, over paved with greed
We are the rich road, we are the rage
We are the rich road, we are the rage
Outline of black, tell me how much you'll detract our home
We want it back, every knick, every knack, it all
We are the rich road, we are the rage
We are the rich road, we are the rage

Where the chair with the bottle cap hole?
Where the players and the old liquor store?
Why I come back and everyone gone?
Why the tone coming home feel like I do not belong?
Feel the humdrum of machines
Feel the Dum Dum melt in my teeth
See the team, yellow hat silverback beams, 'bout take to everything

"Gotta get you out of this town, and to a better school"
"So you can get to college, and not struggle here, like I do"
"Wanna give you more than what I had, so know, I'm trying to-"
Yeah, I grew up on Dunn St.
House without sidewalks
Too young to understand the money tight, so took what I got
Had fun playing with neighbors
Sharing bikes out in the dirt lot
When I grew up, I drove back to revisit that same spot
No more brown, but big white houses
Sidewalks and 400,000s

Little old house way back on Dunn
Life low class, eluded the young
Skin deep brown, soaking up sun
Like the dirt lot we played in for fun
Now we see why the parents high strung
Money was tight and never enough
Charging the credit so they could feed us
Financial strife detracted from love
Mom just wanted what's best for me
Better schools were necessity
So we moved out consequentially
And I parted ways with that run down street
But I drove back one day just to see
And reminisce on good memories
But most of it was a different scene
With highlights of racial disparity

And I never call home
I'm a fake king on a fake throne
All bling, what's the area code?
All sing, no song
Puff my chest, King Kong
What I rep is so real, you just can't ignore

Point your rockets to the stage
We about to light this beat up
Like occupation forces and the popo with the team up
Pick your knees up, that's my Achilles heel
Couldn't breathe in Minnesota
How you think white phosphorus feel?
It's real, y'all are seven decades late
Sit down, let's conversate
About my auntie jumping out the window, age eight
Survivors guilt is fake when you never played ball
How can I shed tears for a land I never saw?
And I never call home
I'm a fake king on a fake throne
All bling, what's the area code?
Wouldn't touch Falastine with a ten foot pole
Like a pair of wet drawls, Grainger bathroom stalls
IDF with the SCARs that'll leave deep scars
Why does freedom gotta take so long?
Why is breaking out these bars so hard?
When I can break them in this fast, on God

You stole, you stole it
-take from you
I won't take for you
I won't take for you
I won't take from you
I won't take for you
I won't take for you
I won't-

I'm a son to my mother
A brother to my sister
A foil to my father
A stranger to my brothers
To the broken home I've known, and all my ex-lovers
I left you, but I've come back searching for answers
From ranchers I was forged, to live off the land and cattle
Broke their backs before wetting them, we all pick our battles
Generational damnation, or the chance for the spangled-
Banner to bless your children with a workweek in the saddle
Our apartment, where Rich was our landlord, not an adjective
Roaches were house guests, and returns were diminishing
On the lip of gentrified strip malls, our district was flourishing
I was blessed with education, not inheritance or porcelain
Yeah, that white ceramic, fragile and expensive
Apt descriptors, and that's not to mention
Men in black vests, knocking doors and asking questions
After the fact, when you're stolen and sobbing in detention
Snatched up the soil and claimed it wasn't anything
That destiny hadn't manifested
So, My Country, 'Tis of Thee, I do sing
Auld lang syne
All our sins
Never end, never end
"I need a place to live"

I won't take for you
I won't take for you
I won't-

Written by:
Abdulrahman Armouti, Alexia Chur, Breanna Lucero, Genaro Cruz Jr., Jaylon Muchison

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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