Birds in the Hood
Nah-nah nah-nah NAHH… nahh…
Birds in the Hood
Nah-nah nah-nah NAHH nahh…
Yeahhh… it’s your fam gettin’ played by the pigeons again.
It’s me vs an organized bird crime syndicate. They movin’ like a military regiment, holdin’ board meetings, handin’ out memberships. At this point they got a budget and a president. I swear these damn birds got better management.
Waxed my ride, thought I was clean, now the sky got beef. Actually, my beef’s got wings. Check it.
Birds in the hood shittin’ on my car window, that’s kinda weird though, right? Feathers in the breeze, flappin’ like Marvel heroes. Drip-drop paintin’ my old school Camaro.
Pigeons on the wire like they own the block. Stocky crow with sunglasses struts around like he’s The Rock. Like, Dwayne, is that you?
Sparrows do a fly-by shoutin’, “Nice rims, bro!”
Seagull on the roof keeps yellin’, “Sup baby! Splat you later!” Drip-drop. Whole bird crew laughin’ while they reload, ready for another fly-by.
Neighbors peekin’ out like, “Yo! You should call Rambo!” “Brrt-brrt-brrt.”
Now my ride look like a fuckin’ frosted churro. I’m cooked, bro.
DJ Seagull on the roof yellin’ like a ringtone. Pigeon doin’ donuts around the street cones. They all look like clones, maybe they are drones. Who would know? Government maybe?
Drip-drop. It be like rain, rain, go away. Wait… is that bird shit?
It really be like slide to the left, slide to the right, now crisscross.
My car’s windows, hood, fresh wax, fair game. Birds in the hood tag cars for fame. But they still got aim, ain’t that a shame?
Feathers throw shade while they sign their name. We wouldn’t know it, but that’s the game.
Rollin’ down the block like Mario Kart. Dodgin’ dive bombs, but they playin’ smart. Flyin’ by like a drive-by.
Blue jay moonwalkin’ like hee-hee-hee.
Parrot on the fence yellin’, “AY! YO! Gotta pay the bird seed fee!” Cardinal chirps, “Nice tint, my dude. Be a shame if I remixed your mood.”
Scarecrow posted, thought I’d win. Birds used it for a meet-n-spin. Duck squad waddles up talkin’ heavy smack. “Quack, quack, Aflac, no refunds back!”
Even the pigeons went out and got a union rep, filin’ flight plans on my sunroof step. One sparrow dropped a diss so hard, I froze in shock. Thought it was Eminem from 8 Mile roastin’ Papa Doc. Had me standin’ there speechless, losin’ all my confidence, just like Clarence.
Streetlights flicker as the night creeps in. Bird council gathers with a french fry grin.
Seagull shouts, “Yo! Mission ain’t done. Tomorrow at dawn, we poop as one! All in favor?” Grab my sponge, grab my towel, but it’s deja vu. Crow actin’ hard, straight outta Compton like Ice Cube. Pigeon squad rollin’ deep, bringin’ the crew. DJ Seagull droppin’ beats on the roof too.
One cold fact that’s straight up true ,Started this morning with a freshly waxed dream. Ended up battlin’ a whole airborne team.
Waxed my ride, thought I was clean. Guess my biggest haters really do got wings. “Brrt-brrt.
Not so clean now my dude
Brax
