T3 - Nag Champa (Afrodisiac for the World) lyrics

[Verse 1: Common] Excite-ting, enlight-ning, invite-ing I'm writing sh** 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 sh** 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 a**hole to international lover-self Word to the mother on my last record cover, it's felt Now deal with it [Hook: J Dilla] 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 [Verse 2: Common] In this never-ending battle to please n***as, magazine writers, emcees Who request hot sh**, I freeze And tell them where I was rose, we always said cold Hold your horses and your carriages This never-went-gold n***a rocks shows carat-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 f**ing 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 [Hook] [Verse 3: Common] 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 b**h 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? [Hook x2] [Outro x6] We be that, we be that Afrodisiac, 'disiac