In my soul and out my pen,
On my paper and through my thoughts.
One in the same it ain't Hip Hop.
Though it used to be,
but now it's not.
Confused
and
so simple.
One time,
Two bits,
Three strikes.
One fight,
One life,
One way to go.
I never sang.
Never dance, but when I did...
When I would, I could, if the motion striked me right.
A happy, sappy, sort-a-blues-type-a-pick-a-low.
Not that ol' fashioned git' tar,
fashioned too small.
My type of music that makes me unsick,
with delicious licks,
and vicious words.
The truth comes out no bluer and truer than in the Blues them'self.
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