Son of a Brown Bomber

[Verse 1]
Spawn of a young mama, son of a brown bomber
Not wanted by Obama
My pops played soccer and scored goals
Centre forward, should have paid Papa
I heard he played proper, here comes a young buck
Chip off the old block ‘a
I’m doing shows in Tokyo until it's roadblock ‘a
Come together with finesse that means it’s no cock up
I ain’t getting locked up
Son of old father, frontin’ then don’t bother
And if it’s love when you see me, then there’s no problem
Clapton to Cold harbour, I’m reppin no drama
I never told on ya, razor like a Barber
Rhyming at full volume, am I role model?
Stepping with no hobble, I came to write a novel and kill your whole squabble
Son of a brown—

[Chorus]
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber

[Verse 2]
Son of a co-worker, a cocoa worker
Having fun in his prime, 70’s circa
A real tearjerker, a man of his word ‘a
A voice to be heard ‘a, kill you in an argument like it's cold murder
Then sit down and have a drink and take it no further
And not too proud to serve ya
He wouldn’t wanna hurt ya’, a true soul searcher
Son of a kitchen porter, a record exporter
Without Pops, I could have never made the fourth quarter
A lot of kids, seven sons plus three daughters
Follow these orders, bury your head inside your books, get yourself taught up
Then come home right away and don’t get caught up
Can’t complain about the way I didn’t get brought up
Son of a brown—

[Chorus]
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber

[Verse 3]
Check it
Son of a real man, so I don’t feel bad
I feel proud I get to call this real man Dad
I’m real glad we had the kind of partnership we had
So I don’t feel sad
Son of true friend, brother of Reuben, Joseph, Simeon, Gad, Asher, Benjamin
Issachar, Levi, Judah, Dan, Zebulun, homie, so it’s evident
I’m the son of proud man, hard-working
Not afraid to tell you what he thinks of you in person
Cursing sometimes, never had it easy, there when he needs me
L. O. V. E., soccer on the TV
Son in the studio working on the BV’s
Wishing that he could have stayed alive like the Bee Gee’s
Son of a brown—

[Chorus]
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber
Son of a brown bomber