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Serengeti
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Talk To Me
I sound secret like a whisper, fake like a denture,
Disappointing like the hard times of your mentor.
Rocky roads, little jungle toads,
Secret like the shit was written in the cloaky code.
Can't read it, talk to me like Curtis Loader,
Rap shit don't work, become a chauffeur,
Know the streets, stadiums and teared seats,
Pop the truck driver, turn on Bon Iver.
Disappointing dash spokes, wanted to be a scuba coach, expand like James Poke.
But instead, after Bon Iver, Papa Roach.
Sir, don't forget your coat.
I was a mentor, yo, talk to me.
Yeah, where you've been, honey?
Yeah, where you've been, baby?
Yeah, work hard or very rich,
Keep it together like a ten stitch.
Enjoy yourself like a sexy bitch.
NBA wives arguing outside,
A sense of beauty and pride ,
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Watching women fight for guys.
Whatever, people all have their faults,
Like skimming a couple grand for your company's bank vault.
And you were trusted, left the upper brass disgusted,
Took years for the company to get readjusted.
Your wife having a secret family in Gary,
Her second spouse kind of looks like Neneh Cherry.
Whatever, cut the lady some slack,
I've been getting bent back,
Peace to sudden impact.
Where you've been?
Yeah, where you've been, honey?
Where you've been, baby?
Where you've been?
Baby, bank fault, sacred, baby.
How come you smell like the Jake Dan'?
Where you've been?
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