Intro:
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Yeah I'mma get this one off for 87 Street
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South Side of Chicago, Chicago everywhere, check it
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It's like c'mon y'all, get live, get down
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Common Sense is in your town
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I said c'mon y'all, get live get down
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Common Sense is in your town
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Verse One:
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I stagger in the gatherin' possessed by a pattern
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That be scatterin'
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Over the globe, where my vocals be travellin'
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Unravel in my abdomen, it's slime that's babblin'
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Grammatics that are masculine
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I grab them in, verbally badgerin' broads
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I wish that Madelline was back on Video LP
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Raps I make up like blacks do excuses
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I feel like Noah, hookin' my mellows up on deuces
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If a broad ain't got a mind, a job, or crib, she useless
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Acoustic basslines embrace rhymes while I chase mine's
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They say signs of the end is near;
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I wonder, "Can I walk a righteous path holdin' a beer?"
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Got more verses/Versus than a Kramer, go off like a pager
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Skills uglier than Craig Mack, in "ya ear, I'm the flava"
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My old bird said some of my songs sound like noise
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Don't watch the Bulls as much, they've got too many white boys
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A million black men walkin' towards one direction
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For sure, the cream of the planets... resurrection
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Verse Two:
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A prophet, raised among Black Disciples and Vice Lords
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Who don't give a fuck about mic chords and nice wars
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get up, together black wrists get cuffed
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I'm wishin' for a change; my man wants his change in a cup
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Yessuh! I'm in the Mix-a-Lot
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Bitches put 'em on the glass while I'm puttin' stickers on they ass
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I rule Everything Around Me, like Cash
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On the rocks of reality, dreams get splashed
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In jams I M*A*S*H like Alan Alda
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Niggas nod, then say "hey," as if I was Little Walter
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87 strip-walker, taught the Code of the Area
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by stayin' within the barrier
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Exposed to Stony stimuli; with that I identify
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Brothers went through my rotate solidify the realness
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Skull-caps, Murf Puffy jacket, Lug boots on
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Steppin' to me is like goin' to the county being a Neutron
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Verse Three:
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I ride the rhythm like a Schwinn bike
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When in dim light,
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I use insight to enlight
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Device up in da skin tight
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Words of wisdom wail from my windpipe
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Imaginations in flight
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I send light, like Ben's kite I've been bright
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Get open like on gym nights
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And in fights I send rights
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Don't hook with skins my friends like
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I spend nights up in dykes
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I've been indicted as a freak of all trades (DOOH-DUH-DOOH-DOOH DOOH-DOOH!)
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I got it made
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I bathe in basslines, rinse in riffs, dry in drums
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Come from a tribe of bums
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Hooked on negro and mums
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Had to halt with the, malt liquor,
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Cause off the malt liquor I fought niggas
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Now my speech and thought is quicker
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Cruisin' Southside streets with no heat and no sticker
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U-AC got my back and we don't get no thicker
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87 got my back and we don't get no thicker
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Chicago got my back and we don't, now check it
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I'm a hoe but not a hoe-nigga
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Ain't scared of no nigga
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But when it's my turn to go, I gotta go
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And I'm gone with the storm
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-----------------
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Resurrection '95
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| Common |
