Um Ricka

[Intro]

L'hypocrisie dans la politique

Ce n'est pas bon. Ce n'est pas bon. Nous n'en voulons pas

Démagogie dans la politique

Ce n'est pas bon. Ce n'est pas bon. Nous n'en voulons pas

La dictature dans la politique

Ce n'est pas bon. Ce n'est pas bon. Nous n'en voulons pas

[Verse 1: Wale]

Made it out Naija with nothing in the bank

DC cabs got my pops alright

UDC where he met my mother

Couple years later they had my brother

Low income no bills getting paid

Not to mention Wale is on the way

It was just the four of us uptown corners

Peabody street venturing off Georgia

I never hugged no corner

That is not an ice-cream truck that's a coroner

Back when crack was enormous

Moved it to Maryland so that couldn't harm us

Thinking I was OK

Got in more trouble as I got up that age

And I was getting whipped at home in sixth grade

But it made me the man I am today, Thanks

[Verse 2: K'naan]

I was similar, plus I was born in middle of

Kill 'em up 'dishu make gore in the cinema

Steering up, trouble was pouring the villain up

Little nutjobs come swarming the village up

I was small with my skinny butt

Had to D up like all in a titty cup

Pop-pop, hit a mini mug

Shitty but I seeing brain getting splited-up

So they taught me to spray

But more importantly taught me to pray

Oh, mama got a visa

You mean to tell we goin' Um Ricka

Now they want me to grease-up, be less African and get amnesia

Nah! Slumdog Million G's up

My past gives M.C.s a rap seizure

[Verse 3: Wale]

And I'm similar

Critics fall in love when I'm spitting it

Flow unfuckwithable, niggas impotent

Mama was an immigrant, money slow coming in

No benefits still a nigga never hissy fit

This the land of the white man

We don’t plan it to pan out, why fight back?

I just write that right by a mic stand

Write a couple checks sip a couple y'all like that

It's my fact y'all are fiction with diction

Speak with conviction or we shouldn't listen

See with a District Columbia vision

Along with these Yoruba contact lenses

Oh yeah, pops got a visa

Think he regret coming to Um Ricka

Where they cherish gangsters and not teachers

And you believe when a rapper wan' be one

[Verse 4: K'naan]

K'naan and Wale got money in the bank

In the T.Dot I'm a soldier with ranks

Mark from Kingston was a gun runner

Used to call me the African Don Dada

Rap sheet was as long as a Sudanese brother

You ain't more street so go suck your mother

I'm fresh, and yes I rock my fedoras

Amadou & Mariam but still no chorus

I never said "Oh, poor us"

Though horoscopes couldn't scope my horrors

Rappers please step forward

I'm a magician so please focus

It go 'Abracadabra'

Mixing potion from African forests

Oops, I'm so sorry

Just turned your street cred to whole-wheat porridge

Ha-ha K'naan, Wale

[Outro: Wale]

Aw man, it's been a ride

It's been a hell of a journey for me man

We started off just kinda passing around CDs

With uhh motherfuckin' sharpies written on the CDs

And now, you know, I'm a couple mixtapes in

Had, like, the mixtape of the year

A lot of people called it last year

So you know

You know how JAY-Z said he wasn't going for the charts

On Um, "Death of Auto-Tune"

Like I wasn't going for like mix-tape of the year

Or like monumental mixtape of the moment

Like, you know what I'm sayin'

It was more so like, I just want to get my rapping on

And with niggas want to get their rapping on

So let's get our rapping on