| Now do you see this, The way the grey controls only
|
| The souls that go to sleep to sink and dissolve
|
| Are set adrift, in between the concrete and the mist
|
| Just another inner city bliss
|
| Now do you see this, The way the grey controls only
|
| The souls that go to sleep to sink and dissolve
|
| I set adrift, in between the concrete and the mist
|
| Just another inner city river bliss
|
| Uptown, soul of American century, no dispute
|
| Our foreign coup, Malcolm gets shoot, shot
|
| Harlem screaming, «How come it’s you, not?»
|
| Some other fucker at that audubon spot, got
|
| Houdini to seedy schemey, Junkies who would easily deceive me, believe me
|
| Monthly, must be, easy to fuck with Wik
|
| In my ear saying «Suck this dick 'fore I get sadistic»
|
| I’m in the corner, crying «What's this shit?»
|
| Seems I’m either puffing that bliss or cuffs on my wrist
|
| Yin and yang, either stinging with pain or bringing that grain
|
| Either way yo it’s all the same thang
|
| Thinking, Might it be worth it, life in the circle, write in my journal
|
| My journals the, city it flows with the prettiest prose
|
| Mixed with the gritty and gross, I pity the
|
| Hideous shmoe, not the idiot shmucks, still giving a fuck
|
| But I pity them so I guess I care too, prepared to
|
| I-I-I dare to, keep trying when dying
|
| The island be my heirloom
|
| Now do you see this, The way the grey controls only
|
| The souls that go to sleep to sink and dissolve
|
| Are set adrift, in between the concrete and the mist
|
| Just another inner city bliss
|
| Now do you see this, The way the grey controls only
|
| The souls that go to sleep to sink and dissolve
|
| I set adrift, in between the concrete and the mist
|
| Just another inner city river bliss
|
| Marred Muts, upstream harbored us
|
| Luck loop of lucky louie shufflin' suave struts
|
| Wrists carved up, from center street souls
|
| Whose scars won’t shut, no scars won’t shut!
|
| Back in kickball they were the kids that got cut
|
| Type to lick ya tears off, poke ya gut and such
|
| Now who’s stuck? |
| And where’s my luck?
|
| Barged baxter in bayard boom, where’s my buck?
|
| You wouldn’t last long on Lennox, you scared to come up
|
| But you need to be as scared of the come up
|
| When you need to be shootin' shoats and saving the young pups
|
| Torrid heat, time square post let it erupt
|
| We’re bashing and barking like, dogs in the fog
|
| Down the South, slow draws, haggard hogs
|
| I can feel ya hunger baby, scribble and make ya starve
|
| Taught you 'bout tatted walls, scratched and scattered scrawls
|
| Night you like to breathe but you talk timid towards tamed with awe
|
| And tongues rip through holes with pockets to draws
|
| I was born in the ocean and adapted to life ashore
|
| Take it as a simple world, world, world
|
| Guess I’m spatting off like hell, now what the hell
|
| All the, all the, sick stories to tell
|
| Sittin' in ya cell thinkin' to yourself, «how'd I fail»
|
| Well, why’d I wail?
|
| Now do you see this, The way the grey controls only
|
| The souls that go to sleep to sink and dissolve
|
| Are set adrift, in between the concrete and the mist
|
| Just another inner city bliss
|
| Now do you see this, The way the grey controls only
|
| The souls that go to sleep to sink and dissolve
|
| I set adrift, in between the concrete and the mist
|
| Just another inner city river bliss
|
| Suave slobs, conquer, Manahatta
|
| Wally’s on my feet, Squallies on the creep 'cross the
|
| Street where the people that peep the nostalgia
|
| All dat karma can come upon ya
|
| Suave slobs, conquer, Manahatta
|
| Wally’s on my feet, Squallies on the creep 'cross the
|
| Street where the people that peep the nostalgia
|
| All dat karma can come upon ya
|
| Suave slobs, conquer, Manahatta
|
| Wally’s on my feet, Squallies on the creep 'cross the
|
| Street where the people that peep the nostalgia
|
| All dat karma can come upon ya |