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| Common One Day It'll All Make Sense Hungry [Common] Yo, niggaz don't want none of this Niggaz know they can't fuck with this Turn this shit up just a little more I walk the night in rhymin armor, bomb a nigga like a winter coat Have him on Death Row searchin for an Interscope Yet I sparkle like Irene Cara Symbolize dope, like sirens do terror Mariel just had a baby someone else decapitated Flashbacks of past raps make me so glad I made it Players is gettin traded I drop a gem off, them who's style is jaded My juice is grated Shit is so bangin niggaz say it's gang related On philosopher's rink of thought, I've skated with precision Crews is gettin split like decisions Com will let it ride in collision Vision like Coleco or tele, I battle stars in stellar... Regions, my thought scheme was my like my offspring Now, it's teethin My reason of rhyme applies to season and time Season of mind, body and regions divine In mom's cookouts, I'm leavin the swine Verbal vegeterian, squashed beef with Ice Cube Came in this rap life nude Now I'm fully clothed with flows You tricks can't hide behind expensive cars and clothes Old niggaz I expose like Luke does hoes in videos With classic material, imperial and rugged like Got mag, but my slugs a mic You fake like a smile, like a hug, I'm tight Skip ladies, this is rip a muthafucka night Oracle arouse, niggaz don't even run for cover right Downtown interracial lovers hold hands I breathe heavy like an old man, with a cold can of Old Style Hold a Stone Isle profile Mix between Malcolm X and Sef when I go wild Hold mics like a second nut until the second comin Hummin comin towards you with power like forwards do Hip hop, you my bitch and like a Ford, I'm Explorin you So, wack niggaz be cool, with them, I stay cordial Flowin room temperature, cats is presumed miniature Like golf. Soft like Tiger Woods And real nigga angles I've stood with ways that's geometric Don't need to rob banks with dike broads to Set it I levitate to the occasion, lounge like a lyricist Rhyme wise, you a rest haven You sat by the door spooked like I was Wes Craven You need to do more deletin and less savin A praise in hell, raisin heaven Like the bill on my pager leavens What you should have known from day one You will on day seven "Hungry hip hop junkie in the city" (*scratched 3X*) |
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