People get into trouble when they stop minding their own business and waste too much energy worrying about others. Nobody should have time for that. Angle is now the one to be heard and not seen.
lyrics
Verse 1:
Why so serious? When surgical knife from ear to ear it gets
counterfeit weird and shit.
Ha! Said words don’t hurt me. Not hearing it. No fear in it.
Laugh and knee slap, Edward Murphy, Delirious.
‘Cause what else you gonna do, stomp the tall grass
for every snake you run into for letting the venom spew?
Let ‘em through. See the truth. My brightness kick a lunar crater.
Give ‘em proof. Gleam the Cube. Their shine’ll flicker soon or Slater.
God damn it, like a good Christian, following commandments.
I know my code and crack a few eggs to make a Hamlet.
Sometimes it’s tragic. Sometimes you feel you witnessed magic.
Exclamation happens, period. That’s shit when a colon’s spastic.
I can touch the middle with a cup of joe and couple of flows.
Snub in the nose, but all revolves around where the loving goes.
Take it localized and hit the pillow with a lean.
Wake up and socialize with a hot mug of mean.
Chorus:
I’m not dying. I’m riding. Doing more than, surviving.
You’re not trying. You’re sliding. Worried more ‘bout, where I been.
Around. Just know that I’ve been around.
I’m not dying. I’m riding. Doing more than, surviving.
You’re not trying. You’re sliding. Worried more ‘bout, where I been.
Around. And I’m not going down.
Verse 2:
Blow the steam off it, before you bite the grammar.
Throw the ‘tude leftovers in the fridge with the Arm and Hammer. Be enamored
with the ghosts just shuffling after glamour.
They cross your path, rubbing elbows and crafting answers.
First class knuckle dragger to gather the Halle Berries.
Baffled chucking daggers from mastering Urban Dictionary.
Let ‘em be legendary. They always act hard,
but won’t walk the streets without their celly bars.
I have not a care, with savior faire, I still get there.
They stop and stare. I navigate the space over their bed hair.
I rearrange and change the landscape in spite of a dozer.
I suppose, I chose to poke a rose into a poser,
right on the lapel. Ah, what the hell, I’m fooling no one here.
I’ll LOL and clap, have the dove poop on his coldest gear.
He cracks open a cold beer, or twelve, sit back and pass out.
Plays the role of a pot, paints the panes black on his glass house and I’m out.
Chorus Repeat
I’m doing good. I’m doing well.
credits
from Cygnus Opus,
released June 15, 2018
Produced by the Dust Collectors.
North Carolina MC Big Pooh tells it like it is, detail for gritty detail, aided by L'Orange, Steve Roxx, and Apollo Brown. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 24, 2015
