I’m hollerin’ at your feminine side, is it or isn’t it genuine?
Let women decide, for men will ever judge from within this
Minute in time, and the standard I’m held to is
From another planet, I landed here when mine fell through
Alienated by no paleontological ties
But never is this kid discredited by the honorable
All rise, son – the sun presides, the abominable
Find it comical I call my shine beyond nominal, uh
My handle fine-tuned to channel 19
Address my living letters, better left unsigned
Though punctual, no wonder you’re some kind of comfortable
Stomach full of lunch-line chuck and junk food
Empty calories will soon catch up, comments are
Covered in condiments, son it must have been my fat gene’s dominant
Common represents the conjugate that heaven sent to compliment
The veteran’s accomplishment, the conscious honor it, but


Whispers of them do us like we’re disingenuous, like
You only rock it for the paper that’s thrown
As if this is an end to my condition of indigence
Nah, we holdin’ stock in something sacred as stone
So when victims of insolence rise above the influence
I open the flock to those who made it alone
It’s the mission of men who just write despite ignorance
Yo, with swollen pockets we gon’ take it back home


SCRATCH HOOK:


This goes out to all my people in the city (repeated)
Where we don’t get caught up in between with the nonsense
This goes out to all my people in the city (repeated)
Never worryin’ about grief


Define your residence, if these 4 walls simply shelter you from elements
I recommend you get out more
Off base you face a down pour, catch a taste of what the
Town’s renowned for, these spates will drown y’all
Slick and precipitous, I’m bloodied up, to the
City of Brotherly Love, 206 is the antithesis
My tolerance is type ridiculous, though I
Continuously seek forgiveness for the shit I wished upon you
A disservice to mom dukes – she raised me better
For her baby, set a greater precedent to gage and measure success
And I know she will never love me no less
But you sycophants are sick, ugly and grotesque
I’m amongst the monstrous who breathe fire out the nostrils
Akin to conquerors you read about in the gospels
Inhospitable are the Pontius, Pilate the prefect
These Sea-dwellin’ fellas aint accepted me yet


So I stay on my biz and if he play the periphery he
Control the block around the space them cats own
I see this state of misery as the greatest gift to me, yo
My golden op will be escapin’ that drone
See I’m a late epiphany, uh, away from mendicancy
I told ‘em stop it, son – don’t wait for that loan
I heard they say it’s trickery, but we’re makin’ history
Yo, with swollen pockets we gon’ take it back home


SCRATCH HOOK


Lyrics submitted by mattofwashington

Back Home (The Return) song meanings
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