I'm mood yall, I slive with jiva yall I'm actually deep yall, invented yall In ten yall, I pay your cap yall I player late yall and down to
I bust raps yall, in love with naps The sweet kid, I speak my thoughts yall I wreck the break yall, trust the flag yall I dig the birds yall, I'm layin' out now,
The seasons been good like a I hang out with a gang out flat bush cool beats I the reverberated shout was goddamn And questions 'bout the methods how the Planets jam
Wallowed a gang a murk in the interim I couple time we got jerked but still invented Wicked little joints that got us ghetto weight And kept the jazz alive by pullin' off the plates
Maybe only we was hip to stretchin' out the I Bird Parker when I shot it in my vein I these major losses on the Mingus jazzy strum Flip off a nod and dig myself a dyin' young
Its like cool was the bop and the I kicks to my pools by the nap of their I'm pinnin' Sam for the death of swingin' quotes For losin' Bud Powell slidin' over Dizzy's
Was it that the rebirth was the for new shit, of cool shit The jazz power from the crew was sure legit But hey, present since Hank Mo's gone They kill the breeze in this land of the free
And it been like that they lied about they flag Like all my main mans gave they beats up for So I pops it at your like Bu I did a lid But I used Lee's Cooker got my buzz around
I'm so shy yall, I'm hip to yall sector six, yeah and now and then too I the trims yall and fades a fake now I know the nat yall I'm out yall, yeah
The been smooth like the suede Pumas that butter got butter got paid Or better yet Dolphy's archetypes for cool Or better still usin' space in afro blue
Its simple, swing be the of the time The spinnin' by the kings good for speakin' of the The seven sessions gave the buzzes that I caught They asked was it blues knowledge (What you thought?)
I told 'em it was solid, dig, the was way out My loves to kiss when Ornette just lays out So the quotes be as such the kits, uh You down Digable Planets yous a hipster, shit
I lay it on the cats monk The logical extensions boomin' out that trunk Assumin' that the room in which you zooms by your mind Not the stars and stripes but red booms And the rat-a-tat-tat by Max or Joe on we go
The fly shit yall, we dont quit Its beats here and its out there A groove kid, the jive is high yall We aint yall okay pow me up
Uh, the seasons been fat like boom math jazz fillin' up the room When Booker jam with at the funky five spot Jimmy Cob's job was crashes on the top
Butter cop his lid at this Harlem jam The tenor bop the middle and his and his tam I'm diggin' how these dudes my buzz a little hipper And angles on the moves really get no blacker
I'm sinkin' deep to the sleekness of the I'm take the hipness and just lay it in my form So when the hoodlums flood for another anthem I say its in the cause it notin' but rhythm
And rhythm goes on and on to the of moon, baby The dads is gone but used to come lovely The sickness towards the cause Sam caused the blues But hipness a swirl and jams by my crew
Infect space yall, we swing yall Its like yeah, its like be bop The new slips, oh shit, we got fly kicks Its like jazz, uh, its us now