(Chorus). America's lost somewhere inside of Littleton. Eleven million children are on Ritalin. That's whay I don't rhyme for the sake of riddlin. False media, we don't need it, do we?.
Man, you ain't gotta worry 'bout a thing. 'Bout your daughter, nah, she ain't my type. (But supposin' she said she loved me). Are you afraid of the mix of Black and White.