I'm Indian - Rucka Rucka Ali

Okay

Guess who’s back

From the dead

Indians (What kind?)

American

White man come with no passport

From that shore, not that shore

I trade white man my land for

Smallpox

And then I die

Hello, little kiddies

Sit right here

I’ll tell you a story of quill and steer

And I don’t mean steer like flying over trees

Dropping napalm on the Viennese

Lalalala

No words

My people commune with birds

And smoke signals

Sent from Androids

In our tribal apartment in Detroit

And that’s not an actual condo

That’s just a metaphor

I live in cycles

I was a fox last time

Now I’m in a government subsidized

Top floor high-rise

Good god, cars go by

The pollution brings a tear to my eye

And I get sad in a teepee with a bongo

Can’t see, where did the sun go?

I talk to the ghosts and spirits

Say a little woo hoo

And I can hear it

Ohm, my spirit’s fixed

I live in a house of rocks and sticks

Now I’m gonna wear no pants

Get those grants

Yeah boy, get that cash

Whoops, I mean squirrel ooh ooh

I use it for my fur

I now do this

Lalalalala

Just do this

Lalalalala

Go crazy

Lalalalala

Go crazy (Lalalalala)

We’re lazy

I’m Apache

Old and trashy

White girls have disease

We catch it

They’re so ratchet

They wiped out my people

Now I’m on a reservation

Smoking weed and heavy drinking

Living simply with no grieving

Wanting nothing but our freedom

Then a government check

Touch methodic

This land gave us birth

We get what we need from the earth

We live to serve

We don’t believe in owning land or doing work

We have no jail

We have no crime

Our casinos provide good times

We pay (Lalalalala)

No gambling fines

Inside the tribal line

Now I’m gonna wear no pants

Shout them chants

Yeah boy, get that cash

Whoops, I mean squirrel ooh ooh

The moon is my timer

I now do this

Lalalalala

Just do this

Lalalalala

Go crazy

Lalalalala

Go crazy (Lalalalala)

We’re lazy

My kombucha was just boxed up

So to Walmart made by the white man

I burn plastic to make cardboard

Don’t pay taxes cause

Lalalalala

I’m Cherokee

Driving in a Bentley

I love nature

Hit me on the pager

She’s in danger

Let’s not rape her

Like some low-tier white bitch

Touch methodic

Now this is the park where the sacks hang out

Navajo nation reservation grounds

Everyone sings like

Hey hum how abagadagabagadaga

That’s the whole melody

The only one we know

I’m a red man

Not a red dot on the head helps you fix windows 7

And prays to an elephant and bakes naan bread

We’re natives

In Vegas

Take the plane that the white man gave us

Cheyennes

Ryennes

Indians

Cheyennes

Redskins

Guy with the palm reading science

Violence is not the answer

Alpaster can cure cancer

Eat some peas and talk to trees and go

Lalalala

To stop the bleeding

Now I’m doing a rain dance

With no pants

Yeah boy, rape that cactus

Whoops, I mean squirrel ooh ooh

Is that better or worse?

I now do this

Lalalalala

Just do this

Lalalalala

Go crazy

Lalalalala

Go crazy (Lalalalala)

We’re lazy

Alala

Touch methodic

Alala

Touch methodic

Get that coin

Touch methodic

I mean squirrel

This is indigenous land

My people lived here on this land for millions of years

Before anyone else came here

We came on this land first

We lived in piece… of shit tents

That was all we needed

We never had any walls

Our casinos had revolving doors you could walk right in

We had no prisons, either

There was no need

We didn’t have any black people yet to put in them

The blacks were brought here by the white man

What kind of shit was that?

The rising crime rate drove my people off the land