Nag Champa (Afrodisiac For The World) - Common

Yeah baby boy

In the place (for you and yours) to be Da uh da uh, we got the uh yall

We bout to rock yall, we got the uh baby…

Yo yo yo check it Excite-ting, enlight-ning, invite-ting

Im writin shit that I feel

Raps are black steel in the hour of commotion, the motion of com

Is like that of a ocean, devotion cuz im The earth, wind, and fire of hip hop

By rakim and short I been inspired

My shit knocks environ---ments

Of cats wit seventeens tint, time is money

The mind is funny, how its spent on gettin it Its sittin wit descendants of abraham

Who say the jam is «money, cash, hoes»

I went from bashful to asshole to international

Lover-self, word to the mother on my last record cover its felt

Now deal wit it Chorus: bilal

I wanna get into it Lets do this

I wanna see you move it So move it So lets just get into it Lets do this

Can you feel the music?

The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music

Yo check it yo In this never-ending battle to please

Niggas, magazine writers, mcs

Who request hot shit, I freeze

And tell em where I was rose, we always said cold

Hold your horses and ya carriages, this never-went-gold nigga

Rocks shows care-less

You not gon respect self, at least respect the heritage

Affect the lives, the spread of 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 fuckin r&b broads, it came true

Journalist I wreck, shared the same view

Picked up a fallen angel on the path that I mc Familiar voice, come to find out the angel was me Some say «you changin, rashid»

Times are, we still close

I rhyme far, away away away

From what you accustomed to hearin everyday, uh-ah

You know the dope-choppin, gun-poppin, homies dyin

Im amongst it, save the war stories for private ryan, ini

Yo check it yo Women cry, children laugh, men dance

I refuse to lose self and try to win fans over

Weight on my shoulder fluctuates like oprahs

My refrigerator poetrys magnetic like ultra

You couldnt hang if you was a poster

Posin like a bitch for exposure

Its rumors of gay mcs, just dont come around me wit it You still rockin hickies, dont 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, imagin on how good the cat must be Stop eatin meat, lost weight, but I still rap husky

My verse depth is that of a babys first step

Or the old lady who died and the nurse wept

I flow like cursive writing, invitin you and yours to my openess

Shows allow me to cop range/range like a vocalist

But man does not live on bread alone

What good is a range/range when its time to head home?

*during chorus on the second time*

We be that, we be that

Afrodisiac, disiac

We be that, we be that

Afrodisiac, disiac

We be that, we be that

Afrodisiac, disiac

We be that, we be that

Afrodisiac, disiac

We be that, we be that

Afrodisiac, disiac

We be that, we be that

Afrodisiac, disiac yeah