2009, ain’t much left, we still gonna rock it though. My man Birdie gotta rep, you know what I’m saying? Check it, check, check, check, check, check, check, here we go again!

Back in the day I was all up in the nest
Tucked all between straw and momma bird’s warm breast
But even then I knew I was gonna learn to bust out
I pecked hard on my shell cause for life I had the lust now
And I was still damp from the yolk of oppression
When I leaped into the air and picked my new direction
Some avians might be walking, that ain’t no diss
There’s room for a penguin or ostriches
But I ain’t the walking type, a’aight?
I got me a perch when I need to get alight
I roll in a v when it starts to get cold
The rules of migration? Hey, I just know
Maybe I was born to sense my way to north true
Maybe I just do what I want to do
Maybe I got birdbaths five stories high
But I still keep it real next to socks on the line
Hey, I might be blue but I ain’t sad
Yellow J, tell these people where my party at

Aaaaaaay
Aaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy
You on his turf now, you better watch yourself
Aaaaaay
Aaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy
If you can hear this song
you belong
to the one and only Bir-ir-ir-dayyy

Verse two

I play for big stakes, I got aggressive behavior
How about you show me your Parus majors?
Everything around here first needs my consent
If you land without permission I’ll chase you off my fence
You like this hat? I had it made custom
Some squirrel tries to take it you know I’m gonna bust em
I’m omnivorous, my calling style’s mad unique
I fly real level dropping slow wing beats
I’ll crack all your nuts with my thick black bill
If I see a single owl I’ll be strappin’ to kill
I own everything that I survey
So make an appointment with Yellow J

Aaaaaaay
Aaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy
He’s clearly set the boundaries of his territory now

That’s right ya’ll, I’ll mess on your car

Aaaaaay
Aaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy
If you can hear this song
you belong
to the one and only Bir-ir-ir-dayyy
 

Wear this shirt: to intimidate the cat. You had your day, kitty, and you might be a legend, but the sparrows are under new management, if you follow me. Be smart, kitty.

Don't wear this shirt: on the Bloods’ turf. You will get SO busted by multiple caps in your singular ass for at least two different reasons.
 
This shirt tells the world: “Don’t you think that little bird to the side should have been a puffin daddy?”
 
We call this color: BABY Blue? Damn, she looked eighteen at the club! My bad, just take a couple mill on your way out. I keep a petty cash box by the Hummer for just this reason.

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