Homeward Bound - Akir, Immortal Technique Presents: Akir

Gotta go.

You know I stay up on my tippy toes

Floatin' like a Cadillac through Kaki-lak, dusty roads

Money’s low.

Niggas know good bills is high

Gotta ride.

Gotta fly—planning to

Plus, I’m gonna kick it in Atlanta too

Just to handle a few things

Dudes be protecting they blocks and never move kings

I change my game like comebacks.

Sure, I’mma comeback

But right now, I had enough of that—I gotta make tracks

State to state, new city and town

I been around, but I’m homeward bound

A fast pace and I can’t slow down

Solid ground.

I’ll be homeward bound

State to state, new city and town

I been around, but I’m homeward bound

Change the place, switch my hustle around

Hold me down.

I’ll be homeward bound

Yo, chip on my shoulder, city blocks on my back

The only way Akir know how to act

I react to the scene and snatch up the green in between shit

Checking on my queen, staying with terrific leans on a different ride

Slide into the other side.

Fly from my mother’s side

Nice guy.

Slide from my pop’s side

I move around a lot, never really had a spot

But learn to read characters and how to pick locks

Akir—one-man band.

My home is where I land

Arms around my fam, eyes on a different scam ‘til it jam

Damn, gotta scram ‘fore the man come

I try to hit the can, son, ‘cause I’m too handsome

State to state, new city and town

I been around, but I’m homeward bound

A fast pace and I can’t slow down

Solid ground.

I’ll be homeward bound

State to state, new city and town

I been around, but I’m homeward bound

Change the place, switch my hustle around

Hold me down.

I’ll be homeward bound

Yo, I travel like a veteran where… ever I settle and

Making money peddling, X-Game medaling

Fiending like Carol when the end

I’mma win regardless ‘cause I’m a nigga that’s plotting the hardest

Rap artist at eighteen.

College, I dropped out

Crapped out the rap game, became a model scout

Getting change for bagging dames

Nineteen, a producer

Acid on computers, waitin' tables just to get my loot up

Cash and credit card numbers—they was on a slumber

Quit for the music.

That summer, nigga, I’m on the come-up

Got a job telemarketing, still on the grind

Gotta put the manager, started selling ‘em double lines

Paycheck, monthly bonus, and extra dough they throw us

Until we got busted down.

S’no wonder, disgusted, I’m out

Promotions for different majors.

Second company

Twenty-one, first client that’s really supplying papers

Off-the-book cash.

Traveled and we had a blast

The web boom to the whole stock market crash

Got a job doing car rentals.

It was instrumental

Shit, I had places to get to.

It didn’t pay enough

Times are tough, paper’s essential

I knew there was more to offer

Put on a suit.

In a month, cellphone and office

Back and forth to record my album

Dropped the job, kept the cars, and pressed up a couple thousand wiling

From the South to Manhattan Island

A man’s prowess is important as his callouses—enormous, kid

And now I rock shit.

Suburbs, back to the hood

New York’s my stomping ground, America’s my neighborhood