This is a rap from the 'Amos and Andrew' soundtrack!
"Con Air rap"..,,,eat this!
Lyrics:
(Verse 1)
You can check my blackness, fact is I'm rough as a cactus
Now I gotta change what I practice
I went to the suburbs and bought me a big house
And now they wanna run a brother out?
I'm a well-educated young maker of revenue
Rollin' in a big black BMW
So I'm supposed to fit because I'm straight legit
But the police STILL wanna trip
They accuse me of robbin' myself
Never seen a brother with wealth
Hell, I thought I was big, and now I'm trapped in a house
'Cause the cops got my crib staked out
The police chief is runnin' for commissioner
But if I get outta this, chief, I'm gettin' ya
Chief needs a cover-up plan 'cause he heard I'm famous
Called a crazy white boy, name was Amos
I thought Amos was a burglar
But when he saw me, he said I never heard of ya
He couldn't tell north from south
But Amos was my only way out of this suburbian nightmare
(Verse 2)
I may not look like Beaver, but you don't either
I bought a big house for the breather
Even in the suburbs, cops are my enemy
And all the rich liberals ain't friendly
So Amos got a shotgun and I got a skillet
Anything movin', I'ma straight up kill it
I'm a black man on the come-up, I got done up
And roughed up by a cop tryin' to get hooked up
I got a meal and I just sealed two more deals
And now I'm runnin' from the cops?
This ain't real!
You see, the cops sent Amos in to play that role,
Be a burglar and rob my home
They offered him a deal and then took it back
Ol' Amos should have signed him a contract
Chief walks in talkin' that nigga smack nigga that
Now they want me for attempted murder
The craziest case that a brother ever heard of
The neighborhood fears me, they're scared to get near me
The cops wanna smear me
My suburbian nightmare
(Verse 3)
I used to eat pig feet, now I'm eatin' lobster
Gettin' my check, boy, the hell with them propers
Life still ain't changed 'cause I gotta get my hustle on
Just to get these cops gone
Four or five mil' can't make my race change
It can make the pace change, but it won't maintain
I can't go outside to jog
'Cause my next-door neighbor got a prejudiced dog
But it's America, home of the free
Life in the 'burbs ain't nothin' like TV
Now I'm runnin' from the cop clan
'Cause my neighborhood told the cops: "It was a black man"
Mr. and Mrs. Gilman next door
Puffin' on a joint, kinky to the core
And that's the typical role model
White picket fence, big house and a bottle
Who can I blame for the stereotypical mix-up?
The innocent again get tricked up
Things is supposed to change when you grow to my size
Open your eyes to my suburbian nightmare
