Hot Bref

Peace, peace, peace, peace
Peace, peace, peace, peace
One, two
Yuh, yuh, yuh

Tryna' find the right loophole in Glasgow
Pulled up in the Peugeot, stepped out
Drip like Inspector Clouseau
Puff some hot breath on the Hublot, if only
Binary consciousness, errant pompousness
Shaka Zulu's verse, Clarence Thomas'
At that time, I was trafficking in airy promises
Hustling the margin of error can be an accomplishment
Contravening the inimical
The polemic gesticulating at the pinnacle
Magically, do you smell vinegar?
I squint like Forest Whittaker
You in the forest with a trickster and gasoline tapestry
Haggling for lifeboats
Downbeat on the upstroke, kissy face cutthroat
The rhinoceros charging
When I rap, it sound like arguing amongst people
I'm with the shits like a dung beetle
The idea was to use Funk to fight evil
Enlightenment is lethal
It be like bebop roots, dreadlock spook, hummingbird's eye view
En vue, through the veneer of hot potato
In the living room, you'll find pieces of me, boxed and labelled
Ready for shipping and handling
I'm with the rampant dismantling
Of self and surrounding syntax and outlook
Bent back paper clips in house shoes
Notice how my mouth moves, while I sing the blues
While I sing the blues
While I sing the blues

I'm the minstrel man, I'm the cleaning man
I'm the poor man, I'm the shoeshine man
I'm a nigga man, watch me then
I got God in me, can't you see
I got God in me, can't you see
I got God in me, can't you see
I'm a nigga man

I'm not the thinker, I'm watching the thinker
Stoppers, pop lockers, floaters, sinkers
Clockers, beamers, roses and stinkers
Jiggers, splits lickety
My hips rickety
Persnickety goblin, hard sighing
Through another cold call
Snow falls in the frosted landscape of my heart
I hear what you're saying, but my brain is not a mechanical part
Seeking nothing, found I self
Cheeky bluffing through the valleys and volleys
Forays and hobbies, sprees and opening salvos
Tulips placed under brown nose were smelled often
The doctor looking at me like the petals fell of 'em
Soul coughing, goalpost rotten
There's pain in my dreams often
I wouldn't expect you to understand this
You not been left behind and forgotten
So, pardon me while I split this square with the-
Fella who live on the bridge up here

Yeah, this my stop, right here
Stay up



Credits
Writer(s): Rory Allen Philip Ferreira
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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