The Morning After - Bambu

What up gangstress?

My head pounding like a mugg

Been at the bar all night, you know, chopping it up

By the third or fourth cup of Hennessy I was bent

And now I’m glad about my past relationships again

But ahhh

I got off to thinking 'bout us

People’s Park, Venice Beach, New York City and stuff

Your red pumps to your Vans, my shank in your bag

Put my hand in your hands because my airplane land

Go act through the town over the bridge to your house

In a 4−1-5, sucker free, no doubt

I fucked up being right there when I should’ve been here

Now right there’s a regret and you the truth my dear

I ain’t gon' fuck this up I swear

Now I dare for the girl who let’s me keep her pistol under my chair

I wear my Dodger fitted just to see your face pout

But I love it when you smile and flash the gold in your mouth

And I…

I love it when you love me like this

I love it when you love me like…

Let me kiss your tattoo, put my arm around your waist

Put your lips up on my ass face

On my side of the bed

Go 'head punch me in the stomach when I push you off the edge

Mama was a rolling stone

Bucky up when he hear that raspy tone on the phone

On the road when I’m out I know it’s hard on your heart

Late sessions out recording, keep us always apart

Off the Bart, Balboa Park, Brazil or Madrid

We can chill in the crib, hit club Milk or club Six

Or just sit, light up a swish, my girlfriend Chris

Miss L.A. on a song, gon' play for our kids

I’m still a little hung over and a lot more sober

This the morning after, I’m just happy that I know ya

And I never take for granted that you here with me now

And I’m reminded when you smile and flash the gold in your mouth

And I…

My ghettoized eyes find I’m hypnotized by

My lover my reminder why I need me a rider

Why I need you right beside a man who fights for our country

Because you come from where I’m from

You organize just like me

No sleep till Brook-nam

If it’s me and you, I’m cool wherever I put my foot on

My biggest fan my supporter, my endorser my friend

Buckle up, stomp it back, we at it again

The journalist that’ll document the struggle we in

And if you need with the speed, I’ll put a fist to a chin

L bombs on the L.O.V.E.

hater movement

I’ll be there for you to help you with whatever you in

You got a soldier home girl, best believe

Who get sad every time I pack my things up and leave

When the Feds come knocking on the door of your house

I know you ain’t gonna show 'em any of the gold in your mouth