Like The Wind - Paulie Rhyme

Just when I feel like turning my back,

The beat like a drug calling me back,

But it don’t really give a fuck,

If I’m rich or I’m poor, If I’m well or I’m sick,

(If I ever get a hit) Or if I’m blowing in the wind,

Check the man in the mirror, not quite looking myself,

Black rings under my eyes, vision of some bad health,

Haircut not in months, so my line is gone,

My teeth kinda yellow, so much time alone,

Its been like 2 weeks, new beats, lock in my basement,

Phone cut off, because I forgot to make a payment,

Email backup, cats need some litter,

I think my girl at her girl’s, be gone till the winter,

Or gone to the spring, can’t really remember,

Got a book full of rhymes, but my life is cinders,

Box full of books, books full of songs, Songs full of hooks, and my smell is

off,

Ain’t showered in days and hours,

My soul these beats devour, now I need some more,

No cane just bass, and I need some more

Like a john or trick, again rolling the strip,

I’m addicted to the rhythm and I need another hit,

Just when I feel like turning my back,

The beat like a drug calling me back,

But it don’t really give a fuck,

If I’m rich or I’m poor, If I’m well or I’m sick,

(If I ever get a hit) Or if I’m blowing in the wind,

Month later after the last binge, feeling myself,

Not dead prez, but visions of some good health,

Hit the Zoo for a fresh cut, then the mall for that smell good,

New kicks, new fit, Renaissance like I’m Q tip,

Man women boogie, and my girl is home,

G1 back on, and the love is strong,

No beats in weeks, and no relapse signs,

No falling off the wagon, occupying my time,

Bolted up the basement, my life in Sunshine,

No FM in the van, talk shows when we rolling,

On my days off, trying to stay off the net,

Block the all the music sites, just news to check,

Everything going good, no need for the pen,

Keep notes in the phone, no records to blend,

On a cold turkey diet, get a ring at the door,

A cd full of beats, as I drop to the floor…

Just when I feel like turning my back,

The beat like a drug calling me back,

But it don’t really give a fuck,

If I’m rich or I’m poor, If I’m well or I’m sick,

(If I ever get a hit) Or if I’m blowing in the wind,