Who's That

David Banner

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    Who's that peepin in my window?)
    (My folk don't understand so they dont take us serious)

    Everybody wanna rap but y'all don't seem sincere
    Do you realize the pain goin on round here?
    Think about the things that we puttin in these kids ear
    Is parallel to slave stories told by Ma Dear
    I'm a man with a plan since fifteen on the corner
    With some beats in my hand all rapped in Saran
    Sellin gettin cash, stacks, wrapped, smacked in rubber bands
    I was just like you, little nigga skippin school
    Smokin weed tryin to fuck something
    Then I had to move
    Yeah God made me choose, the dope game, rap, or school
    Cause it's all fucked up
    That's word to my name, now we all Screwed up
    Bitches poppin pills Now they all juiced up
    Black women raise your kids
    Cause we don't need a lil nigga in the pen dodgin dick
    And I know it sounds six six six
    Oil spills on the coast but BP STILL RICH
    Man them white folk ain't goin trip
    Katrina, now this, they tryin to break our spirits

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    The devil in the form of a lick
    But niggaz wannt rap, play sports and chop bricks {*3X*}

    This is David Banner's Mississippi country grammar
    I'm sick of all my niggaz praisin livin in slammers
    Board up your window neighbor, and save that peace shit for the pope
    Cause there's a war goin on, and its all about dope
    The rich is gettin richer and the poor is gettin broke
    Meanwhile niggaz hatin on my twenty-two spokes
    On my caddy I eyed Cali cause I had to have more
    Then a Pyrex visit, tryin to flip a little coke
    Yeah I love black folks
    We gotta do more than smoke
    I got a flow like Muhammad when you up against the ropes
    Every verse from now on is a motherfuckin quote
    For you fuk ass rappers, bendin over for the soap
    Yellin pause grand dad, NO NO
    Star bitches in the crowd like I'm Tony Romo
    I got a heart like a pit
    Got beats like a pimp
    I'm a man amongst women, let y'all play the bitch
    Got Boo on deck and too BIG K.r.i.t
    Still articulatin words with our southern accent
    Biitch; it's the mixtape son my nigga

    (Who's that peepin in my window?)
    (My folk don't understand so they don't take us serious)

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