{*scatting for the first 30 seconds*}
[Arsun F!st]
Uhh, I weave dreams with my thought's fabric
Listenin to "Illmatic" tryin to change my status
Searchin for the heart and soul of the rhythm, I motivate language
across the page like it owe me interest
The business of MC'ing, is dog eat dog
Everybody thinks they nicer than the next man's bars
Instead of, showin love, he throwin me the finger
Just because my delivery's iller, grow up
Learn to flip syllables and words with double meaning
Then, you might have a chance of seein what I'm seein
When a Hendrix comes out, them colors are blurred
The pages become the catalyst for calmin my nerves
Aviento, mi palabras, yes official
Panamanian spirit is the missile
Launched from the flight deck, targets are the axis of evil
Liberation time for the people
Lights out... {*repeats as vocal fades*}
A wise man told me, there's +No Country For Old Men+
So the good die young while we swimmin in sin
Politics as usual, keep the planet in orbit
But it's the same monotony, that be makin me nauseous
These days, we all wanna be +Cool Kids+
Retro fitter gear with some old school rims
'Til the runner had the balls to call it the new shit
It's the 80's all over again, lemme talk to ya
Zip hoodies, shell toes and Pumas
Chuck Taylors, Pia Zadoras and them Asics movers
New Balance, Reeboks, Kangaroos and such
All used to play the back of the bus
Now they boutiques up; too expensive for the average cat
When it used to be the poor kids that dressed like that
Huh, too expensive for the average cat
When it used to be the poor kids that dressed like that
Lights out... {*repeats as vocal fades*}
