Counting heads as I enter the room
|
Straight check the ration, but it's cool, it's cool
|
I'll be kicking rhymes in a self-fulfilling state
|
Until the consequence fades away
|
A shout out to my lady, Gwendolyn Brooks
|
She kicks the poetry, I add the hooks
|
We're here together to send a message
|
That not too much has changed, bring it in
|
Word, I grip the microphone, pass from the left
|
I want the bass up so I can feel it in my chest
|
Dig this accusation, not a brand new thought
|
Just to finer point in life that can't be taught
|
I got to focus on my attention on the real thing
|
Never realizing till it passes what it is, what it could be
|
Janis says get it while you can and this is true
|
Cause it may not be tomorrow but we die soon
|
We die soon
|
I'm gonna tell it to, gonna set it straight
|
So I can pass it on to you, watch it circulate, formulate
|
Rhymes, ideas, like a lit J
|
Passed around, found people got vices these days
|
You can shoot H in the veins or popping pills
|
But on the microphone I'm executing mad skills
|
I can spot a hundred thousand ways to avoid, avoid the truth
|
Because it may not be tomorrow but we die soon
|
Cruising listening to smooth jazz
|
Realizing lost my passion pazzazz for life
|
I'm under pressure and I'm not sure
|
But it looks like Lady Death is gonna come at her own leisure
|
Live it up, give it up, life's unpredictable
|
Gotta make sure not a second is dull
|
The throw down, the show down at high noon
|
It may not be this minute we die soon, lid
|
|
-----------------
|
Gwendolyn B. Sings Sin
|
Lucky Boys Confusion |