Sangtekst: Andre Nickatina. Birds With No Wings.

You sober up punk
I do it high
I'm ridin' the wave in the ...(?)
Baby you turnin' me on
And when you turnin' me off
I think you better take some lessons yeah, from Diana Ross

I'm shippin' birds with no wings
All over seas
And other people cop 'em at the hottest degrees

I keep money for bail
Because I never liked jail
And I study A-plus student at Yale

They say, "Andre Nickatina, ya emcee number seven"
Smokin' weed up in heaven
Born on 3/11

Tigas and gods
Liquor and bomb
I look to my pad like the holy kerhan

I'm shippin' birds with no wings
All over seas
I put em where they never heard raps like these

I rhyme like calico cats
And two loaded gats
Now what mothafucka think he fuckin' with that?

I be the special shishcabob on the grill with all steaks
Call me a Mack truck with no brakes
Or better yet a chef that love to bake cakes
And get into anybody in any other state

...(?) baby, take a look at what I done
We used to sex in ya basement now I'm number one
With no desire
I'm throwin' gasoline on the fire
I don't like your record store if you're not a buyer

Spin cycle
It's somethin' like a wash and dry
And I be speakin' to my P.O with a serious lie

You know the Matador
The replican, the guillotine
The money, the dope
Homie, the triple beam

Melody's soft but is heavy as weights
We got the snottiest freaks
With the sexiest face

You better poka-bang-bang
A chica-chica-chill
A tumble down the hill
Like Jack and Jill

We say spin around broke witch
Bust a ballerina
I pro blow when Mark with Marina

It's time
Tiga I was bred to grind
N' your zodiac sign
N' up in the minds
Man, the killa whale of hell
Yell, strikin' down bail
Wet you with the water
Smack you with my tail

Shit, I'm shippin' birds overseas
...(?)
The number one Pisces
Shit, it's me