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Back in the days when I was a teenager Before I had status and before I had a pager You could find the Abstract listening to hip hop My pops used to say, it reminded him of Bebop I said, well daddy don't you know that things go in cycles Way that Bobby Brown is just amping like Michael Its all expected, things are for the looking If you got the money, Quest is for the booking Come on everybody, let's get with the fly mode Still got room on the truckload of black boom Listen to the rhymes, then get a mental picture Of this black man, and black woman fixture Why do I say that, cos I gotta speak the truth, man Doing what we feel for the music is the proof and Planted on the ground, the act is so together Bona fide strong, you need leverage to sever The unit, yes the unit, yes the unit called the jazz is Delivering each year an LP filled with street goods You can find it on your rack in your record store If you get the record, say your thoughts are adored And appreciated, cos we're ever so glad we made it We work hard, so we gotta thank God Dishing out the plastic, do the dance till you're spastic If you dis... it gets drastic Listen to the rhyme, cos it's time to make gravy If it moves your booty, then shake, shake it baby Letras de cancionesAll the way to Africa aka The Motherland Stick out the left, then I'll ask for the other hand That's the right hand, Black Man Only if you are noted as my man If I get the credit, then I think I deserve it If you fake moves, don't fix your mouth to word it Get in the zone of positivity, not negativity Cos we gotta strive for longevity If you botch up, what's in that [ass] A pair of Nikes size ten-and-a-half We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) Time, time is a ship on a merciless sea Drifting toward an average of nothingness Until it can be retarded for its own destiny Time is an inanimate object Praying and praying and praying with no justification for relief Time is dancing, boogalooing away all memories of past.. We gotta be a winner all the time Can't fall prey to a hip hop crime With the dope raps and dope tracks we move blocks From the fly girlies to the hardest of the rocks Musically the Quest, is on the rise We on these excursions so you must realize That continually, I pop my Zulu [shit] If you don't like it, get off the Zulu tip So what can you do in the times which exist You can't fake moves on your brother or your sis But if your sis is a [bitch], brother is a jerk Leave 'em both alone and continue with your work Whatever it may be in today's society Everything is fair, least that's how it seems to me You must be honest and true to the next Don't be phony and expect one not to flex Especially if you rhyme, you have to live by the pen Your man is your man, then treat him like your friend All it is, is the code of the streets So listen to the knowledge being dropped over beats Beats that are hard, beats that are funky They could get you hooked like a crackhead junkie What you gotta do is know the Tribe is in the sphere The Abstract Poet, prominent like Shakespeare (Or Edgar Allan Poe or Langston Hughes) We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) We gotta make moves Never, ever, ever could we fake moves (Come on, come on) Time is running out on black power advocates in the day And white thigh supporters at night Every time you see them they're chasing some white woman With their tongue hanging out Time is running and passing, passing and running Running and passing, passing and running... From Letras Mania