Brown & Down Freestyle

I’m the song of immigrants

My poppa was a preacher man

Don’t believe in accidents

And luck is just a game of chance

I used to sit up on them church pews and talk to God

Them younger days really wish I could turn back the clock

Six in the mornin’ we was on the way to mowin’ lawns

That brown tenacity we not cut from the same cloth

Nowadays I got foos countin’ my money

If Jesus was flippin’ tables over, how you think I’m comin’?