Suburban life, ain't what it seems. Suburban life, the American dream. Suburban life, so pretty and green. Suburban life, ain't what it seems.
Big and little, playgrounds, hippies. Couldn't sit to catch you, but it won't get me. Big and little, playgrounds, hippies. Couldn't sit to catch you, but it won't get me.
Now my pops bought the system. American dreamer. Bought a new home. And a brand new Beamer. But it didn't take local things to fall apart because the system that he bought ain't got no heart.
Run the bills for days. He got bloodshot eyes. The American dream was a pack of lies. Six months later, municipal court. Divorce time, baby. Shops are bored.
I went from home-cooked meals to TV dinners. No more little Stephen, now it's St. Douglas and us. There's no cash back and there is no receiving. Suburban life, ain't gonna die for me.
Suburban life, ain't what it seems. Suburban life, the American dream. Suburban life, so pretty and green. Suburban life, ain't what it seems.
Big and little, playgrounds, hippies. Couldn't sit to catch you, but it won't get me. Big and little, playgrounds, hippies. Couldn't sit to catch you, but it won't get me.
It's been a little deagle through the third degree. More drugs, black thugs, and wannabes. Soldiers of the birbs on field days. America, land of the great.
You got problems? I got mine too. It's not enough blood for the cottonmouth crew. Cause when we smoke, we smoke to get away. To elevate from this world of hate, never perpetrate.
I don't want Notarikas selling herbs on the birbs on every street. No real jobs for the PTP, so what's it gonna be? White minority, come on!
Suburban life, ain't what it seems. Suburban life, the American dream. Suburban life, so pretty and green. Suburban life, ain't what it seems.
Big and little, playgrounds, hippies. Couldn't sit to catch you, but it won't get me. Big and little, playgrounds, hippies. Couldn't sit to catch you, but it won't get me.
Now broken homes, inside every house. Neighbors yell, can't work it out. I see beaten wives, tweaked out knives. Ooh, what a feeling, ooh, what a life.
Now you can't turn back the hands of time, so let me tell you about a flyin' friend of mine. He's probably me, king of the crop. Deep dark purse, fat drop top. Billy blood placed behind his ear. Two turntables and a Heineken beer.
This is just an everyday thing. He's a telephone ring. And he know he's rollin' with St. Dog. Leapin' like some frogs. Truck full of hogs. Trump on the stage. Boxin' race. Whatever we could get, we was gonna get.
Just like the pirates in the Caribbean. Neighborhood boys don't like what they see. Ha ha ha. They got it like that. Clap mouth, boy. Deep scratchin' shirt for a rascal.
Suburban life, ain't what it seems. Suburban life, the American dream. Suburban life, so pretty it rains. Suburban life, ain't what it seems.
Suburban life, ain't what it seems. Suburban life, the American dream. Suburban life, so pretty it rains. Suburban life, ain't what it seems.