My Own Parade Lyrics - ¡mursday! - Mayday

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 shit 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 fuck I call a chain reaction 

Made the top of the food chain 

All without new chains 

Bump in the budget 

Cuz the shit 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 

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