Lyrics Indian Carpet - Timbaland & Magoo feat. Magoo
(Timbaland)
Yo
(yo),
yo,
ay
yo
Timabaland's
flow
infamous
Allow
me
to
assemble
this
flow
with
limitless
style
For
all
man,
woman
and
innocent
child
I
have
no
perimeter
Break
all
barriers
in
various
areas
My
sound
is
mimicked
Track
prime
minister,
some
say
sinister
None
stoppin
the
groove
until
when
it's
The
climax,
some
niggas
is
bitin
my
hot
hats
And
followed
my
drum
pattern,
but
I
done
that
It's
time
to
change,
get
more
deranged
Feels
more
strange
(doooodooooo)
Follow
me
through
gravel
and
shallow
trees
From
mountains
to
flat
plain,
to
thunder
and
black
rain
Through
the
dream
state
of
utopia
Woke
up
to
the
sounds
of
that
man
Timbaland
Five
Mexican
bitches
scopin
us
Belly
dancin,
sayin
"hell,
he's
handsome"
in
Spanish
We
was
fine
until
the
subtitles
vanished
Then
and
open
fire,
totin
opium
Higher
than
I
ever
been
in
my
life
Heard
cries
throughout
the
night
like
(Chorus:
Static)
Let's
get
'em
started
While
they
dance
on,
Indian
Carpet
C'mon,
uh
Niggas
act
retarded
While
they
dance
on,
Indian
Carpet
C'mon,
uh
Let's
get
'em
started
While
they
dance
on,
Indian
Carpet
(Timbaland)
Ay
yo,
I
woke
up
to
a
bowl
of
rice
like
the
Golden
Child
T.V.
playin
like
the
Poltergeist,
must
been
on
overnight
I
saw
a
strong
beam
of
light,
decided
to
walk
to
it
Could
it
be
the
son
of
Christ,
I
decided
to
talk
to
it
In
the
halls
I
heard
music
shoutin
beautiful
calls
And
I
swore
I
heard
a
voice
say:
It's
yours
my,
gift
to
you,
to
do
what
you
choose
But
I
suggest
you
do
what
you
do
to
make
the
spirits
move
I
hear
ya
dude,
and
me
bein
a
barrel
of
fruit
But
your
ears
heavenly,
when
I
sit
in
this
chair
and
produce
Then
my
hallway
darkened
I
felt
a
power
surge
rush
throughout
my
apartment
And
the
glance
callin
like
(Chorus)
(Magoo)
Mag
spit
with
a
sense
of
purpose
on
purpose
When
you
was
eatin
collard
greens
I
was
eatin
these
dreams
I
stepped
in
dog
shit
and
bit
Skid
Row
twice
Only
ice
I
had
put
it
in
my
orange
Slice
What
you
know
about
livin
in
a
jail
when
it
ain't
no
bars
Handcuffed
with
no
key,
world
denyin
your
plea
A
third-degree
charge
when
it
ain't
no
crime
Twenty-six
years
old
and
I
got
more
time
Phone
overdue,
baby
on
the
way,
low
pay
Low
rent
for
your
mom,
gotta
get
away
Smoke,
hate
now,
then
you
wanna
talk
about
the
ghetto
I'm
tenth
generation
of
that,
came
out
the
womb
with
a
hat
Polo
on
and
Nikes
with
a
gold
tooth
I'm
Superman,
I
can
spit
from
any
phone
booth
You
and
your
cold
ass
crew
do
what
you
do
Just
remember
Mag
never
feel
good,
I
am
the
flu
(Chorus)
1 Intro
2 Best Club
3 Considerate Brotha
4 Mr Richards
5 In Time
6 Baby Bubba
7 Love Me
8 Roll Out
9 Serious
10 Voice Mail
11 People Like Myself
12 Party People
13 Indian Carpet
14 It's Your Night
15 All Y"'all
16 Drop
17 I Am Music
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