Yeah baby boy
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In the place (for you and yours) to be
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Da uh da uh, we got the uh ya'll
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We bout to rock ya'll, we got the uh baby...
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Yo yo yo check it
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Excite-ting, enlight-ning, invite-ting
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I'm writin shit that I feel
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Raps are Black Steel In the Hour of commotion, the motion of Com
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Is like that of a ocean, devotion cuz I'm
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The Earth, Wind, and Fire of hip hop
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By Rakim and Short I been inspired
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My shit knocks environ---ments
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of cats wit seventeen's tint, time is money
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The mind is funny, how it's spent on gettin it
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It's sittin wit descendants of Abraham
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Who say the jam is "Money, Cash, Hoes"
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I went from bashful to asshole to international
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Lover-self, word to the mother on my last record cover it's felt
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Now deal wit it
|
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*I wanna get into it
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Let's do this
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I wanna see you move it
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So move it
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So let's just get into it
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Let's do this
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Can you feel the music?
|
The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music
|
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Yo check it yo
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In this never-ending battle to please
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Niggas, magazine writers, MC's
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Who request hot shit, I freeze
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And tell em where I was rose, we always said cold
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Hold your Horses and ya Carriages, this never-went-gold nigga
|
Rocks shows care-less
|
You not gon' respect self, at least respect the heritage
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Affect the lives, the spread of wealth and the merit is
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I realize what I portray day to day, I gotta carry this
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And beats, rhymes and life is where the marriage is
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Had Dreams of Fuckin R&B broads, it came true
|
Journalist I wreck, shared the same view
|
Picked up a fallen angel on the path that I MC
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Familiar voice, come to find out the angel was me
|
Some say "You changin, Rashid"
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Times are, we still close
|
I rhyme far, away away away
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From what you accustomed to hearin everyday, uh-ah
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You know the dope-choppin, gun-poppin, homies dyin
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I'm amongst it, save the war stories for Private Ryan, INI
|
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*Repeat
|
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Yo check it yo
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Women cry, children laugh, men dance
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I refuse to lose self and try to win fans over
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Weight on my shoulder fluctuates like Oprah's
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My refrigerator poetry's magnetic like ultra
|
You couldn't hang if you was a poster
|
Posin like a bitch for exposure
|
It's rumors of gay MC's, just don't come around me wit it
|
You still rockin hickies, don't let me find out he did it
|
Got My Eyes on the Tiger, Eyes on the Prize
|
Eyes on the thighs of Mary J. Blige, imagin on how good the cat must
|
be
|
Stop eatin meat, lost weight, but I still rap husky
|
My verse depth is that of a baby's first step
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Or the old lady who died and the nurse wept
|
I flow like cursive writing, invitin you and yours to my openess
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Shows allow me to cop Range/range like a vocalist
|
But man does not live on bread alone
|
What good is a Range/range when it's time to head home?
|
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*Repeat (x2)
|
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(during chorus on the second time)
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We be that, we be that
|
Afrodisiac, disiac
|
We be that, we be that
|
Afrodisiac, disiac
|
We be that, we be that
|
Afrodisiac, disiac
|
We be that, we be that
|
Afrodisiac, disiac
|
We be that, we be that
|
Afrodisiac, disiac
|
We be that, we be that
|
Afrodisiac, disiac yeah
|
|
-----------------
|
Nag Champa (Afrodisiac For The World)
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| Common |
