Ey yoyo, check it out, it's the Promoe
Poor lonesome homeyboy, second typhoon
Check it out...

I'm the poor lonesome homeyboy
Far away from home
My only companion in the cold streets
Be the microphone

It's like this...

I'm the poor lonesome homeyboy, far away from home
Got those inner city blues whatever evil streets I roam
They're not known to me, crazy lonely
If I by surprise bump into someone they're phoney
Only skindeep conversations, smalltalk, chit-chat 'bout this that
Well, shit's wack so skip that
And I skip along to the nearest 7 Eleven
Where I boost some juice, so what, I don´t get to heaven
I never stay long, before I tag along
Pack my big backpack and then I'm gone like a vagabond
On a marathon, east or west, north or south
Don't have my own appartment, I sleep on a couch
At a friend's place, where I rent space for 200 a month
I walk the streets like a bum
At least that's what the average pedestrian thinks
So sometimes I gotta relief myself with a drink
And just forget about that big scary world
Lock myself in the bathroom in the tub with my girl
Then suddenly, abruptly brought back to reality
With a hangover and still that black cloud hanging over me