Nag Champa (Afrodisiac For The World)

Excite-ting, enlight-ning, invite-ing

I'm writing shit that I feel

Raps are black steel in the hour of commotion, the motion of Com

Is like that of a ocean devotion cause I'm

The earth, wind, and fire

Of hip hop, by Rakim and Short, I been inspired

My shit knocks environ---ments

Of cats with seventeen's tint, time is money

The mind is funny, how it's spent on getting it

It's sitting with descendants of Abraham

Who say the jam is "money, cash, hoes"

I went from bashful to asshole to international lover-self

Word to the mother on my last record cover, it's felt

Now deal with it

I wanna get into it

Let's do this

I wanna see you move it

So move it

So let's just get into it

Let's do this

Can you feel the music?

The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music

In this never-ending battle to please

Niggas, magazine writers, emcees

Who request hot shit, I freeze

And tell them where I was rose, we always said cold

Hold your horses and your carriages

This never-went-gold nigga rocks shows care-less

You not gon' respect self, at least respect the heritage

Affecting lives is where the wealth and the merit is

I realize what I portray day to day, I gotta carry this

And beats, rhymes and life is where the marriage is

Had dreams of fucking R&B broads, it came true

Journalist I wreck, shared the same view

Picked up a fallen angel on the path that I emcee

Familiar voice, come to find out the angel was me

Some say "You changing, Rashid"

Times are, we still close

I rhyme far, away away away

From what you accustomed to hearing everyday, uh-ah

You know the dope-choppin, gun-poppin, homies dying

I'm amongst it, save the war stories for Private Ryan, INI

I wanna get into it

Let's do this

I wanna see you move it

So move it

So let's just get into it

Let's do this

Can you feel the music?

The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music

Women cry, children laugh, men dance

I refuse to lose self and try to win fans

Over, weight on my shoulder fluctuates like Oprah's

My refrigerator poetry's magnetic like ultra

You couldn't hang if you was a poster

Posing like a bitch for exposure

It's rumors of gay emcees, just don't come around me with it

You still rockin hickies, don't let me find out he did it

Got my eyes on the tiger, eyes on the prize

Eyes on the thighs, of Mary J. Blige

Imagining how good the cat must be

Stop eatin meat, lost weight, but I still rap husky

My verse depth, is that of a baby's first step

Or the old lady who died and the nurse wept

I flow like cursive writing, inviting you and yours to my openess

Shows allow me to cop range like a vocalist

But man does not live on bread alone

What good is a range when it's time to head home?

I wanna get into it

Let's do this

I wanna see you move it

So move it

So let's just get into it

Let's do this

Can you feel the music?

The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music

I wanna get into it

Let's do this

I wanna see you move it

So move it

So let's just get into it

Let's do this

Can you feel the music?

The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music

We be that, we be that

Afrodisiac, 'disiac