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Lirik Lagu Nag Champa (Afrodisiac for the World) - Common Sense F/ Bilal

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[Common]Yeah baby boyIn the place (for you and yours) to beDa uh da uh, we got the uh ya'llWe bout to rock ya'll, we got the uh baby...Yo yo yo check itExcite-ting, enlight-ning, invite-tingI'm writin shit that I feelRaps are Black Steel In the Hour of commotion, the motion of ComIs like that of a ocean, devotion cuz I'mThe Earth, Wind, and Fire of hip hopBy Rakim and Short I been inspiredMy shit knocks environ---mentsof cats wit seventeen's tint, time is moneyThe mind is funny, how it's spent on gettin itIt's sittin wit descendants of AbrahamWho say the jam is "Money, Cash, Hoes"I went from bashful to asshole to internationalLover-self, word to the mother on my last record cover it's feltNow deal wit it
Chorus: Bilal
I wanna get into itLet's do thisI wanna see you move itSo move itSo let's just get into itLet's do thisCan you feel the music?The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music
[Common]Yo check it yoIn this never-ending battle to pleaseNiggas, magazine writers, MC'sWho request hot shit, I freezeAnd tell em where I was rose, we always said coldHold your Horses and ya Carriages, this never-went-gold niggaRocks shows care-lessYou not gon' respect self, at least respect the heritageAffect the lives, the spread of wealth and the merit isI realize what I portray day to day, I gotta carry thisAnd beats, rhymes and life is where the marriage isHad Dreams of Fuckin R&B broads, it came trueJournalist I wreck, shared the same viewPicked up a fallen angel on the path that I MCFamiliar voice, come to find out the angel was meSome say "You changin, Rashid"Times are, we still closeI rhyme far, away away awayFrom what you accustomed to hearin everyday, uh-ahYou know the dope-choppin, gun-poppin, homies dyinI'm amongst it, save the war stories for Private Ryan, INI
Chorus
[Common]Yo check it yoWomen cry, children laugh, men danceI refuse to lose self and try to win fans overWeight on my shoulder fluctuates like Oprah'sMy refrigerator poetry's magnetic like ultraYou couldn't hang if you was a posterPosin like a bitch for exposureIt's rumors of gay MC's, just don't come around me wit itYou still rockin hickies, don't let me find out he did itGot My Eyes on the Tiger, Eyes on the PrizeEyes on the thighs of Mary J. Blige, imagin on how good the cat must beStop eatin meat, lost weight, but I still rap huskyMy verse depth is that of a baby's first stepOr the old lady who died and the nurse weptI flow like cursive writing, invitin you and yours to my openessShows allow me to cop Range/range like a vocalistBut man does not live on bread aloneWhat good is a Range/range when it's time to head home?
Chorus 2x
[Common] *during chorus on the second time*We be that, we be thatAfrodisiac, disiacWe be that, we be thatAfrodisiac, disiacWe be that, we be thatAfrodisiac, disiacWe be that, we be thatAfrodisiac, disiacWe be that, we be thatAfrodisiac, disiacWe be that, we be thatAfrodisiac, disiac yeah