NAIJA STATE OF MIND (DaGrin ft. Naija Boyz)

REGULAR ENGLISH LYRICS: We are children of Nigeria, Born in Nigeria But we are Naija Boyz who live in the US YESSIO! Ha but if you ask me We haven’t changed, we are still the same, We are too cool FILE! We still have the same Naija Swagger Even Mommy says “Don’t behave like a Thug… …If I give you a knock on your head… What’s all that rubbish talk …America my foot” Ha, Naija Mom, you don’t want to get her mad Even if you call the police, You’re still gonna get that beating The kind of beating some fear She will remind you the reason we came here Good opportunity, School and Jobs Now we’ve finally made it I’m telling you…White people will know we are good not bad Not that foolish boy Mutallab He wasn’t trained in Nigeria, what kind of nonsense is that Why would we want to die, we like enjoyment too much Yeah well, that’s the problem with your people That kind of lifestyle is the root of all evil Like Terrorism…and that Booty Yep that’s a crime that’s as bad as Yahooze! What?!…the real crime we do buddy Is speaking in fake American accents Not the regular kind We overlook that We’re talking about the accents some girls overdo As though they are better than you…fake girls Man you are Nigerian, what the hec is Yelz But we are not embarrassed, we are too proud Even in America, we are outspoken Bro, we look past the strife And we Rep Nigeria for Life Our voices resound like Pon pon pon pon pon pon pon (x7) YORUBA/PIGEON ENGLISH LYRICS: Omo Naija ni wa Naija no …
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[Chorus: Stevie Wonder] Been through the storm, through the cold and rain Everything’s still the same Can’t control how I feel Sometimes it’s hard to keep it real You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne So many ways to make a dollar Huh, sometimes I think about my father You see my poppa was broke, and my momma was young Tryin to blend in with them city folk Every day landlord knockin down my do’ Wonderin where my next blessing is comin from [Busta Rhymes] My momma and poppa, moved to the US as Jamaicans Struggled to get visas and green cards through immigration Though my pop was po’, stayed away from crime and malice Hard living gave him hard hands and callous As a young’n, peep how much they loved each other’s space His hard hands rubbin against the pretty skin of my mother’s face Dig for treasure ’til his hands looked like hands of a junkie So coarse, slap a mule and take the life from a donkey On the other hand, mommy was the type to work two jobs Never enough money, that’s why I got your whole crew robbed Got older, developed ways of grippin the steel Barely home for me to see her, or get a good cooked meal Seek refuge in the alleged land of the free, lookin Blendin in with city folk, down in Flatbush Brooklyn Feel a little of my pain, follow and sing to it Homey I seen it all, if you ain’t knowin I been through it In other words I [Chorus] [Busta Rhymes] Got a little older, late teens, me and my crew would …

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Boyz, DaGrin, Mind, NAIJA, State