YC the Cynic
Rude Boy Jamaican
[Verse 1]
Uh I never once thought I'd be a star
Nice crib, nice car
White fence, white dog
Hearing lines from my songs
Recited across the pond
Find a broad and a finer broad
Make 'em fly abroad. Who does that?
I was just kicking lines in the park
Bout how livin' is hard
Till it finally stopped
Weird huh
It's funny how this is only the start
Not bad for a kid from the Bronx
Young world, look out

[Chorus]
Bread in the oven baking
Ay ay
Here comes the rude boy Jamaican
Ay ay X4

[Verse 2]
Just a kid tryin' to make it
Single mom household, pops couldn't take it
Moms on the outs like alps in Jamaica
Pops didn't pay shit, Mom losing patience
Stop visitation; locked it
Lived my whole life in his absence, bastard
Only thing he left was an accent; dropped it
As a kid thought he was a doctor
Went to the hospital, all he did was mop it
Sweep it, pops's little secret
Mind made a beast, but, moms made me decent
Made me work harder, rhyme over reason
Maybe this stardom would make him come see me
I would say "Nah
I ain't the same kid that you left
That was naive and depressed
Checking his phone for a text
On his birthday while his mom working two jobs for a check
Cuz pops couldn't provide but I still wish you the best"
[Chorus X4]