Armand Hammer Lyrics
"Native Sun"

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Ex-hustler returning home looking for skin fades on credit
No second chances to make first impression
Previously invested in death to the fifteen year stretch
Mark new progression, blessings, feeling almost extraterrestrial
Stranger in a foreign land once called home
Still cynic with a familiar essence
Fresh eyes with a outdated frame of reference
Trying not to stress it, somewhere down the line
Shift flip ___? fuzzy head trip
Placed under further review, let's corrective
Grand conspiracy suggested, anger projected
All valid points connected, nest egg stash
___? frustration when he left it
Without valid identification
Even the most noble of servants turn desperate
Under-qualified slash body record
Raw deal most resort to draw steel
Steel saw pus infected, Goliath efforts
Walk the line on shore where first step led
A changed man, callous hands stack brick
By brick thicks, hire three-dollar Mexican on some sh*t
No disrespect intended, just authentic tension
Everybody need a dollar, forty-seven years old
Can't stand to live with my mama
Chipping in on the phone bill
But I ain't trying to burden y'all with my problems

Riding dirty, tour de France
Flat feet nimble, we do our dance
Get caught with all them plants
You got a Chinamen's chance
sh*t eating grin coming out the opium den
Show 'em my hands
Vice squad, cattle prod
Night stick, closed fist
They kept it analog
Tactical narcotics left the township battle scarred
Up close I can smell lard and firehoses
Avoid the station house Wonder Showzen
Don't get your people chosen like road call and ___?
The great wide open, die for what you believe in
Didn't have the guts, I was on the first thing smoking
Kilimanjaro snow on conjugal flows, Nigerian email
You already know, layovers in Lagos
Attache case cut the wrists
I got a message for Smokey and you ain't him
*motherf*cker, I said give me the message*
They ___? by half
In response tipped his hat, raised the glass
Romulan Africa blaze the path
Bottle in Africa I need his math
Would find you pimping where the water ain't fit for drinking
White slavery aspirations, hit Charlize Theron
Spare the nation, you thought not
What n*gga don't got a little bigot time, it's in the brain box
I ate rocks, sip asses, she beg for the whip and call me master
This song is from the album "Half Measures".