Keep Pushin' - Blu

Yo.

I scribbled, all out of line when I drew up a self-portrait

Ran all out of space and found me in another orbit

More importantly though, he wasn’t late for the interview

Kissed the interviewers hand, we weren’t properly introduced

They danced through topics while skimming the truth

Skinny dipping in each other’s optical visions nude

She threw the magazine, cause she said she knew the editor

Chief rocker, not a competitor or a beat boxer

Honored enough, she Peter Bradley’d with us.

With her

Drew Blake’s tucked, cause she knew what was up

I just drew blanks, blushed all the way to the bank

Cashed a few bucks, got grub, filled up my tank

I think she, prolly think I’m dopepretanatural

Said I smoke with the judge, tried to feed her them apples

Fuck classical, I listen to jazz-soul, R&B, riddim and blues

Funk grooves, hard to tweak shit.

Deep end thoughts

I walked the streets bent.

Contaminated speech be killin' then beat this

Watch one prefix, restrict-a-remix, reach quick to keep shit

Constipate release dates.

R-S-D-L, Dual layer edition

As soon as the scene breaks I sneak in the chicken

Get em' Hamilton James shot, couldn’t handle grim had to grin

Nikon flashed again.

Right on!

Yo, this planet is hilarious right moms?

Sike, wrong.

Look like he drops bombs on a serious note

He need a series, he’s experienced folks.

No inquiries though you should

already know

Hold the press, you got me long as I’m holding her dress

When she move eye move, and it’s just that fresh

Sunset’s taking me places I lay awake to see

Painting dreams patiently patient;

playing keys

Singing off awfully, pardon me cough, coffee breath

Caught me walking awkwardly arguing bout' my art and death

«Marshall what’s an artist with no arteries?», I often think

Glad I left part of my heart carved in a leaf with ink

Blink, sharpie my sheets, no debate.

Second guessing was guessing a second

second too late

I said, «Wait, can they handle a candle with no mantle?»

Light bull over head went dull;

«What should he sample?»

Pulled Ahmad Jamal, saw a lost number on the record sleeve

Talked like Charles;

checked to see if she would guess its me

Caught off guard, all laughing all ecstatic.

Asked her «Could we do lunch?»

She said, «Yeah Gavin.»

Gavin?

Who the fuck’s Gavin?

No more laughing,

phone hung up

Must’ve been the wrong number.

Ion' know who that was.

Cuz laughed at me

Buzz bad, actually drunk, mad happy.

Started dialing other folks, «Fuck it yo,

act classy.»

Sat up straight, put a button upon.

Even though it’s 4:20 we’ll be fresh before

dawn

Used to want Ms. Daily even though I was young.

Then we slept half the day as

if nothing was wrong

She said, «John what the fuck are you on?

You look a mess.»

I said, «Same shit as you, and it’s just that fresh.»