My Own Parade (Explicit)-¡Mayday!/Murs

Momma always said, "I was her favorite mistake" Poppa said, "I made it", and he's fuckin' amazed My sister begging me to get her friends backstage Got a key to the city, and a street in my name (I think I need my own parade I think I need my own parade) The club that wouldn't let me in back in the days Now the same motherfucker, where they beg me to play They said I was a sinner, now they giving me praise Got a key to the city, and a street in my name I think I need my own parade I think I need my own parade It's MursDay baby and don't it sound so crazy? Come on and hop up on the bandwagon Grown men for the win no pants sagging It's an All-Souls Processional Ain't no question we true rap professionals I gotta smash on the radio, feeling so perennial Feet on the couch while we talking to arsenio Vixen from the video, calling me Emilio Burning up a dab while she say she cooking my cereal MursDay killing this s**t we need our parade I'mma park this float out front and let the speakers play We let the speakers play Until the tweeters are leaking liters of senoritas Sweet enough to ease the pain Cause you know we gon' slay You need a ticket just to kick it, with the sickness I be sippin', stickin' meter maids So get up and get off your damn barstool MD's leading the march, the grand marshals You seen us on Youtube with tubas fam Ain't no questioning who's who or who's the man Was hoping that you dudes would understand Ain't no groupies just good dudes with true fans You need a huge band when you have huge plans To play your theme music and set the mood, damn I think I need my own parade I think I need my own parade Spoils for the winners Comps for the dinners Drinks on the house Toast to the heavy hitters Got a tub full of Guinness And some stars for my ninjas A billion for my business By the time a player finish I'll be damn if I ain't in track to fill a trophy case Hungered for success too long and now I gotta taste And you can see my ego in orbit way out in outer space Brand new Nikes on my feet with automatic lace Most of the time I'm movin' Off The Wall Type of dude to stop mid verse because I got a call (phone rings) What's up girl? Ya momma said it's time to come home to show her How to put our new album up on her iPhone And I clone billions of better vibes in my tone Checks up in my mailbox, jack up in my time zone Wrek comes expect domination MursDay, we're like a never-ending necknomination Stacking up the shots for the sport and the fashion Now that's what the f**k I call a chain reaction Made the top of the food chain All without new chains Bump in the budget Cuz the s**t we make is butane Hits for all my hitters Villas for all my Gorrillas Dancing with only Shakiras While our enemies all fear us I'mma have the whole city offline and Marching at my pace Hang on every line that I rhyme like monkeys in a cage