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Big Apple - Inna Modja



     
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Big Apple Lyrics


New York City, you're so big and tough,
Well here we come, baby, struttin' our stuff.
Well we look kinda freaky we're pretty damn bad.
Cause Southern cookin' is all we've ever had.
Oh, cook 'em up some greens, baby.I've seen the mountains up in Tennessee.
Sweet little hill women satisfied me.
We all know it's tough and it's an uphill battle.
But we're running 'em hard baby, sitting in the saddle.
Oh, come on baby.New York City you're so big and tough.
My pistols are loaded, I feel rough.
Well. we've heard of your punks and high heeled steppers.
We're bad southern boys and don't you forget us.

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The 25-year-old Malian is a rising star on France’s music scene with titles like “Let’s Go to Bamako”, that might be nostalgic tunes celebrating Mali’s capital, but that sound more like Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera than the music of Modja’s compatriots Salif Keita and Rokia Traore. “I’m what I call ‘rock ‘n’ love’”, she tells Reuters Africa Journal when asked how she herself would categorize her music. “It’s not rock ‘n’ roll because I don’t go silly drinking or taking drugs, but I’m really rock, so I’m ‘rock ‘n’ love’.”

Read more about Inna Modja on Last.fm.


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Inna Modja