Two hits and it's it i'm blown
pray to all the MC's on the microphones
Half grown in the ozone, in subatomic tones
And my microphones and insult for chronic baritones
What? And you look at me funny, not Santa Claus, Jesus Christ, or the Easter bunny.
I smell like breakfast, 30 years of freshness,
brozones are backwards abstractedness
Where my people at? Where my people at? Where my people at? (4x)
Yo here I go again, shall I rock a rhyme again?
A verbal vegetarian, like tiger spots and tiger skins
Solace in the feminine
Life in as a moccasin
Hush like a harlequin
I woke up in the genuine cluster,
I will always be a rhyme buster
The tonic luster, is the feather to your audio duster
Soul brothers the universe is the sketch of a mutha
Where my people at? Where my people at? Where my people at? (4x)
I'm balancing barnyards
Effecting awaking
The sun is my paneling
I'm nourishing, questioning
I seem to be foreshadowing
Your laughter is pampering
This moment I'm savoring
My heart stop flowering
And I am empowering
The paranoid people who pray with us
Slow down days with us
Injecting the populace
With the love hypothesis
Where my people at? Where my people at? Where my people at? (4x)