A quarter that got flipped into a French crescent.
A sweeter eastern sunrise hurricanes for coffee is what we want.
We pay tribute to our city with plastic beads upon breast.
Sleep is for the weary, Bourbon is for the wicked rest.
A southern kind of calling, numbness to all falling.
We smoke out bars cause were stuck on an old school kind of balling.
Strippers, pimps and business men a play yard for them all.
Only the locals know Jackson square is cocaine spot if you need help feeling tall.
A city rich of history, people from all backgrounds playing upon a mystery.
Holding onto the master of the ceremony a track list for we.
Sitting upon the Mississippi ferry boats blow their horns.
A good Ol' Jazz New Orleans feeling it surely warns.
I got welcomed upon stage to bust a shuffle and to rep my age.
I had already loved this city it welcomed me with open arms onto a new page.
White boy can dance! Where you from? West side you know.
But I'm down here to stay poppin moon rocks like its my kinda blow.
Not afraid of big booties or beer thrown in my face.
I used to do the same damn thing up in a Cali farm town at a college pace.
Rolling solo maybe a cap in my cup and some powder up my nose.
Party on players I'll swing a high-5 to the catz as high as it goes.
Funny I only left that town with 2 regrets not eating shrooms in the quarter N' leavin the love that forgets.
See I knew this kind of fun I had been on this hype for quite the while.
Something of a cloud tech 9 I rock hyphy but looking for a new kind of smile.
Got my vans on but they look like sneakers I lost my pack along time ago.
Some kind of Allen who kept doing to much blow.
But I had caught drift of lonely and went searching for friends.
Black brother panthers were the homies I kept for the mends.
But I always got stabbed in the back over something selfish or dirty.
I knew it was time to find a girl to make me feel something of worthy.
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