Translation: The American Analog Set. Modern Drummer.
Where the road is dark and the seed is sowed Where the gun is cocked and the bullet's cold Where the miles are marked in the blood and gold I'll meet
and the months and the tears Passed by And my eyes couldn't stand the strain Of that promised love All the way from America You called all the way from America
America's doin' well I look out the window My America's catchin' hell I just want to know which way do I go? To get to your America I just want to know
am Nicki Minaj, I mack them dudes up, back coupes up, and chuck the deuce up [Chorus - Ester Dean & Nicki Minaj:] Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away Beating like a drum
the eff I is I am Nicki Minaj, I mack them dudes up, back coupes up, and chuck the deuce up Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away Beating like a drum
a lot of this nonsense. It's about relating back to the essence where it all stems from. I'm a do my thing over this drum like a native tongue. Verse
I was trying to find my way home, But all I heard was a drone. Bouncin' off a satellite Crushing the last long American night. This is radio nowhere
't deny it though the drums are good and sloppy The funky beat is playin' and we're swingin' along The underground is rockin' with the hip-hop song The funky drums
lay We the freshest deejay in america today, hey hey! Tra la la la la la la la lay We the freshest deejay, in america today - hey hey! [chubb rock]
up in tha morning and out to school, the teacher is teaching the golden rule american history, practical math, studing hard hoping to pass, working your
You're my American girl, American girl You know I wanna hold you Here's something you can roll to You're my American girl, American girl March ladies
like? I'm in your neighborhood, pullin' on some Bud Light Sweet and sticky, take it out the wrapper Now put it in your mouth To the beat of the drum
friend Sits at the drum His magic hand Feels nothing but Time Nothing but time My old friend Sits at the drum His magic mind Doesn't feel anything American
Weerd Science In A City With No Name So whatcha think about mortality How are these motherfuckers running America Squeaking by like the sound of my sneakers
Say that you will carry the torch Say that you will beat the winning drum You'll be there when the saints roll in With a back made of rubber, half made
Through the dog-breath heat With her concertina spine And her ballerina feet Under a punishing sun Under a red and green umbrella Call her name and beat the drum
yo, aye yo Our shit contagious, so y'all niggas try to quaratine us Ya'll niggas shook up, and all that like orange juice is My gun american, but my