Prozack Turner “Don’t Call Me Fam” (Single)

Prozack Turner of Foreign Legion grabs A-list Hip-Hop producer Statik Seletkah for his new song, “Don’t Call Me Fam”. When Prozack kicks the joint off with an Oakland shoutout, its clear something great is about to unfold. One could only imagine the potential of a full project between these two forces in independent music.

Available for purchase on Bandcamp and streaming everywhere.

Press play and follow along to the lyrics below.

The pop charts full of shit like a dog park
I’m all heart in the street like a crosswalk
I’m a roll up in this bar like skeeball
Shot glass up and down like a see saw
Hit the stage when the beat raw
Turntable microphone drums bass and a keyboard
Smash crews like a stampede of elephants
Kickin dust and dirt up I’m hella bent
I’m just a ghost and flesh riding a skeleton
I’ve always had this commitment to excellence
It ain’t your run of the mill far from regular
Get your hands up like empty out the register
Mics I check like Kafka in Praha
Pick up the pen an easy rider like Fonda
Spit a verse for my folks and the party’s on
A written song or off the head like Jihadi John

I walk alone I don’t gotta lotta close homies
Brim pulled low dirty poncho and stogie
Squinty eyes and I’m baked like adobe
And don’t call me Fam if you don’t know me

Big deal I been to county more than Robert Downey
Feeling good a cup of coffee and a half a brownie
Said fresh things since I was a fledgling
Never liked fake hip hop or fake wrestling
Not concerned with the critics who doubt me
Haggler Hearns round one’s how I’m going in
Even if so and so’s blog said I’m lousy
I can’t explain it in my mind I know I’m gonna win
I’m smoking blunts in a tub full of gasoline
I kept spitting til I empty out the magazine
I’m unforgettable like Nat The King
Competition’s getting shook like a tambourine
I get em open like a catamaran with a battering ram
Thanks his kid will damage ya plan
Cause you’re softer than snuggles the bear at a pajama jam
I’m rugged as attila the hun eating a rack of lamb

I walk alone I don’t gotta lotta close homies
Brim pulled low dirty poncho and stogie
Squinty eyes and I’m baked like adobe
And don’t call me Fam if you don’t know me

About Author