Album Name : In the Temple of Doom
Release Date : 2008-05-28
Song Duration : 3:23
Little Prince Ice House
Prince got problems, no I don't, shawty
Stuck up into clubbing like a bubblegum party
Rub a dub enough and you'll become a drunk, hardly
Stumbling around the club, a type of brother who's falling
Described to a T, that's me
Demonic eyes you can see from the trees
Weed to a vine, I'm a leaf from a leave all season
Exit stage left, naw, shawty, not even
See I'm posted like the pictures in museums
Scheming, smoking away my stresses from the evening
Thinking, if I had the dollars I was dreaming I wouldn't even
Have to bother papa and my mama for some dollars
That I probably won't see profit from 'cause I am dumb
Probably purchase pot and get to coughing like I'm iron lung
And run through the streets like cats and dogs
Till it's mud on my feet like a crackhead's palm...
Now that doesn't make much sense, indeed
And that's not to say that sense could be
What I demonstrate cause I demonstrate what I think'll make me H-A-P-P-Y
Oh 'cause, I wanna [x6]
Prince look crazy, no I don't shawty
People still be wearing corduroys to my knowledge
Evil can't affect the Holy Ghost inside I, uh
Think I'm bout to take the closest road to like college
I'm a utterly expose them
Dare to whisper that the brother ain't chosen; if something ain't golden
Papa need a new pair of shoes
Won't hurt touching people hoping they could get appraised before work
Then I could be rolling
Telling stories like I used to be Steve Urkel, shawty, now, I'm Hulk Hogan
If someone ain't told them
And I'll scream in fun till ya'll ears get numb
Cause my hearing aid's jammed, too darn crunk's what I am
Can't stand still, an ant pile jumped in my pants
But you think I would be scratching like a cat, naw dog
'stead I'm running over people like a crackhead's car...
Now that doesn't make much sense, indeed
And that's not to say that sense could be
What I demonstrate cause I demonstrate what I think'll make me H-A-P-P-Y
Oh 'cause, I wanna [x6]
Things don't phase me, maybe that's why I
Never had directors biographing my life
Though, can't nobody else embody actions like mine
I take the bulk of it and write a rap
To describe timelines where I place facts in-cre-ment-ly
Tied to the fact that Him hath sent me down through the wrath of the e-ne-my
He knowing I was built for this
That was the beginning ya'll, now, I can't finish
A million miles an hour on the rapper with the Hemi
So, bet a million dollars on the rapper for the kiddies
I bet that million dollars automatically start to flipping
Ya'll just don't get it
Or you just merely
Suffer from idio-ha-ha syndrome
Oh, you know who can stop me, well, send them
Bet I send them running like a track contender
Thinking he could take my throne
I'll never let a stranger run up in my home
All off in my space and trying to read me like prone
That's like letting satan crawl up in my dome, homes
That doesn't make much sense to me [x3]
So, let me retain what sense could be like...