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[Prince Poetry] The sun reflects off of the waves at sea Rain support roots that implants the tree There's a breeze - in the park, kites fly high Under the branches, con-vertibles fly by The sky.. [Pharoahe Monch] ..blue, fields green Paints a picture that creates a scene of the destiny that controls my fate Reflections of light, creates shapes [Prince Poetry] Inside of this particular sphere, I see kids in the street When I pass, I go Beep! Beep! Beep! [Pharoahe Monch] See the black boy over there runnin scared His old man runs numbers summers Come in and he'll feel dumb if his son doesn't have a new pair of sneakers So he combinates people's numbers in sequence when play straight, but not in the leaders [Organized Konfusion] Letras de cancionesHip-Hop pumps inside of Jeeps and cars It's daytime but we still peep stars Parties every night, we gotta move, we gotta go We gotta step, let's, jet! We gotta get away, we gotta do it now We gotta walk into the sun! Ha hah We gotta get away, we gotta do it now We gotta walk into the sun! We gotta get away, we gotta do it now We gotta walk into the sun! Ha hah We gotta get away, we gotta do it now We gotta walk.. in..to.. the.. sun.. [Pharoahe Monch] Love and hate, black and white Right or wrong, who is right? Some smoke joints to annoint their brain to the vanishing point, so they won't go insane [Prince Poetry] Mother may I? Yes you may Take some giant steps, to go out, and play I got next, sorry Duke, I got my five You better call next, and step to the side [Pharoahe Monch] There's no specific topic of speech in this rhyme I just wanna go on a ride on a kaleidoscopic tree, visually.. [Prince Poetry] ..individually, we go our seperate ways to get our haircuts and mustaches trimmed Rockin a t-shirt, shorts with thick socks with my boots that I nickname Tim-ber Here comes dayfall I can remember when we used to chill and hang with Paul, Sea.. [Organized Konfusion] We gotta get away, we gotta do it now We gotta walk into the sun! Ha hah We gotta get away, we gotta do it now We gotta walk.. in..to.. the.. sun.. Sittin on a stoop, while the Johnny-pump shoots water while we eat fruits The radio pumps, rockin to L.O.N.S. and yes the girls display flesh by the way they dress [Prince Poetry] The Ave surprises, the fulfilling collage of scratches that strike like sticky matches Attacking techniques with combinating Constantly motivating highly elevating the light steps [Pharoahe Monch] When the air gets thick and you can feel the tension I bypass Howard, and detour Benson Cause I don't really feel like fencing today So I chill in my own dimension and listen to the sax blow.. .. flow, abstract the sax always seems to relax you But at the same time, it attacks you In this particular era of darkness Bust a rhyme that might enlighten the mind and spark this trail to follow the light that's guiding you from the evil that you walk into the sun From what I see it's an addiction I'll explain to the brain about pain affliction Grab my hand, hold it tightly Close your eyes and maybe you might see what I see Yo, what I said simplistic But what I see's not materialistic [Prince Poetry] My hayfever is actin up, so I took a couple of antihistamines WHEW! I got struck with relief Now patiently, I wait for the summer Cause the spring brings pollen and that can be a bummer A terrific brother was havin a specific get-together by the beach Rolling Rock's, plus Peach Schnapps, served on the rocks The Organisms play the boardwalk, pullin numbers from Pros' Peak The scenario, where we go pumpin the Alpine stereo Hop along the turnpike on our way to the merry-go- -round up the herbs at six flags; we're on a mission Hittin the streets of New York in zig-zags Walkin to the park, hark, the herald, named Erald who creates with charts Central Park swarms with intellectual dialects With the potential, of the city's best emergency medical techs So I dip dip dive Listen to the musicians in the park play live The Funky Drummer was drummin even though he was a bum Some couldn't comprehend, the vibe that blended With the sum, there were some, who wasn't dumb I supported with the hum, dropped five bucks, cause he was the one Yo, I gave a clap, I gave a wink, I gave a shout I gotta meet the Monch, STRIKE THREE, and I was out! From Letras Mania