Native Son Prequel

I don't ever talk about the weather

I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers

Well I squawk loud

When I'm pushing through a rush hour crowd

On the way to your house

And it's a low life, baby

Aristocrats sippin' fine wine

Ain't my perception of a good time

It's what I'm having

Where do I sign?

I'll go straight to hell laughing, come on

Since I was fourteen

Repped it hard like I was James Dean

Giving chickadees some wet jeans

When I rolled through I made it my scene

She was a tall lady

Six feet plus and making men crazy

I hollered at her from my blue Mercedes

Now she walk the streets for me daily

I don't ever talk about the weather

I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers

Well I squawk loud

When I'm pushing through a rush hour crowd

On the way to your house

And it's a low life, baby

Aristocrats sippin' fine wine

Ain't my perception of a good time

It's what I'm having

Where do I sign?

I'll go straight to hell laughing, come on

I know it ain't right

Making money off her backside

But you know she ain't no cheap ride

Rockafellas call me late night

She was made for it

So she might as well get laid for it

And I might as well get paid for it

Cuz in the end I'm gonna pay for it

I don't ever talk about the weather

I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers

Well I squawk loud

When I'm pushing through a rush hour crowd

On the way to your house

And it's a low life, baby

Aristocrats sippin' fine wine

Ain't my perception of a good time

It's what I'm having

Where do I sign?

I'll go straight to hell laughing, come on

Where do I sign?

I'll go straight to hell laughing, come on

Where do I sign?

I'll go straight to hell laughing, come on

Straight to hell laughing, come on