Bare Essentials

by Bare Essentials

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about

A collaborative effort from the minds of Imago Dei and Anderson Scott

credits

released January 2, 2012

BARE ESSENTIALS

Executive Produced by: Jerrell Anderson and Jeric Murphy
Project Manager: Karen Wallace
Album Artwork by: CP the Artist
Music Consultant: Jonathan “Journey Brave” Banks
Mixed and Mastered by: Jeric Murphy

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Bare Essentials Atlanta, Georgia

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Track Name: The Numbers
Anderson Scott:
I am O-Dog menacing, riding down Denison/ Huntin' down beats, turning vocab to venison/ Hot from the start, flow frigid at the finishing/ Throw the book at competition, welcome to your sentencing/ Lifetime imprisonment, you write rhymes with tenderness/ I write with the sentiments of people from the tentaments/ who never had benefits to benefit from/ So they're forced to drop science over the sound of kick drums/ My uzi weighs a ton, my 4-pound is chock full of pronouns that's profound/ Niggas need to slow down/ We're the new Motown, except we in the A-Town/ Destroying beats and then rebuilding playgrounds/ The team that brought you "Get Down" stays down/ Whether performing 'Bang' in Bangor, Maine or 'Africa' in Cape Town/ We got a great sound, made it into a show/ And brought it right to your front door... ok let's go..

Hook:
One for the love
Two for the hate
Three to be good
Four to be great
One for the money
Two for the show
Three for the grind
Four for the soul..

Imago Dei:

I rumble and rhyme with revolution on my mind/Both hands up like Fela Kuti in the Shrine/ Standing for my people in a Champion pose/ This food for the poor, these philanthropist flows/ A little something for my family to hold/ This is pentene for my sins when life cancels my show/ This my anchor to my roots while I'm leaving fly/ But still enough rope to paint a ribbon in the sky/Ahhh, see my light, see my aura/ Not a hobby on the side like the rice in my order/ This the meal ticket for my wife and my daughters/ Over flow funds, too much ice in the water/ Too much punch in my pen for these punks to take/ Too much treble in their package need to pump the bass/ I pump the breaks on their pump fakes/ No past interference, pick six while they jump late/

Hook
Track Name: Break Bread
Anderson Scott:
Panola Road patriot, Alleyway ambassador/ Dippin to the Package Store, a model is my passenger/ Mackin is spectacular, master of venacular/ Rackin’ up racks as I pass you in an Acura/ I’m actually accurate, factually flippin it/ in fact I’m rather passionate in terms of how I’m rippin it/ I see the mic, I’m grippin it, open your mouth I’m zippin’ it/ I’ll take your hottest flow and rip it for the shit of it/ This is communion, let’s spread the ashes/ and after, we can take turns eating off the crackers/ Pumpernickel, rye- sourdough I/ start counting money and the hour goes by/ I toss bread- I am in a pizzaria/ In an African medallion, screaming out ‘Free Mumia’/ Back to the money- my vertebrae is earning pay/ so if you don’t like to see determination, turn away..

Imago Dei:
I'm a bread breaker, bread maker, bread baker/ My girl wanna move out west like the Lakers/ Like it in the A but I may have to take her/ And take these white folks for my mule and forty acres/ No offense to my white fans/ Y'all can hold on to this sound like a mic stand/ I got flavor, they quite bland/ like light tan/ Just hype man, more talent in the picky on my right hand/ I guarantee what they only might can/
And stay getting money on the side like a night stand/ I know a penny saved is a penny earned/ But my kicks gotta be sick like too many germs/ Got to earn and get a cut of the loaf/ I bring home the bacon and I butter the toast
Cause when your money looking funny friend/ Short bread funny end, home slice the butt of the joke/

Imago Dei:
I need capital to capitalize, and eat in this game/ To fund a revolution you need means of exchange/ Hip to the game I pinch pennies with no shame
I'll invest in water if I want to make it rain/ So throw it in the air, launch it off like a rocket/But baby need a crowbar to get it out my pocket/ I got the beat rocking, I’m slick with the riddles/ We a circle of kings now put the money in the middle
Anderson Scott:
I break bread, and drop crumbs/ sorta like a baker man who ain’t got thumbs/ I’ve got the equation to get my people out the slums/ Hyperthermic handwritten mixed with hot drums/ I’m 7:30 over 808s/ cruising the 404 with 216 plates/ Mic check 1,2- I can record 3 4s in one third of the time/ you devise one line..
Track Name: Cheap Art (Feat. Zuri)
Hook (Zuri Murphy)
We've got soul for sale/ We've got art for cheap
Sing a song/ Do a little dance for me..

Imago Dei:
The best of they best, is worse then the worst of my worst/ These cats is limp biscuits like Fred Durst/ Need to dive into an empty swimming pool head first/ If hip hop’s a religion, I pastor the church/ And this here’s a revivial/ Quote this lyrics like scriptures out the Bible/ Holy word, replace your doubt with faith/ And make them put money in my collection plate/ I'm giving them less then a tithe/ Tough negotiations, I fight for every dime/ Fight for royalties for every beat and every rhyme/ I’ma make it hard for this vultures to survive/ Cause, I remember rule 4080/ So when they act shady/ I still make them pay me/ I’m robbing the industry for funds to build Haiti/ And give to the third world milk to feed babies/


Hook (Zuri Murphy)
We've got soul for sale/ We've got art for cheap
Sing a song/ Do a little dance for me..

Anderson Scott:
Put your seats back and creep/ We're taking back the music like the beats had receipts/ The fleet's back to eat and defeat cats thats weak/ This tune will be your eulogy, read that and weep/ Peep- too many cats brag that they're rich, like their swag is all slick/ But their raps are all shit/ My flow's colder than Saginaw, Mich/ again, I am back getting Avatar chips/ I blend my slang with hot beats that bang/ I roll with Bebop-ers who 'Rocksteady'- call me Krang/ Maybe I should front like I gangbang,/ that's a sure fire way to obtain fame/ And I'm not trying to put out Waka Flocka's flame/ But you cannot expect me and Waka to rock the same/ I'm all about the lyricism, y'all ain't gotta be/ But if you're with me, turn the music up and rock with me/ The Hip Hop in me, is tired of monotony/ I'm bout to blow the whistle on you, playa- Ed Hocholee/ If you ever wondered why it's so hard stopping me/ 'Cuz it's impossible to foreclose on God's property..

Hook (Zuri Murphy)
We've got soul for sale/ We've got art for cheap
Sing a song/ Do a little dance for me..
Track Name: Africa
Imago Dei:
I write for the hustlers, write for the playas/ Write reparations, so they have to pay us/ Write blueprints for the foundation layers/ Write dreams fulfilled to silence naysayers/ I wrestle with my thoughts, to flow so lyrical/ With the hope and the soul of a Negro spiritual/ Grow miracles from difficult seeds/ Unique specimen not your typical bread/ My people get freed, when I pen letters/ Poetry of Ali, spiritual of Mandela/ That means I fight to open the cage/ Cleanse minds like soap when I bathe/ This track in the word of this rebel/ I serve and I peddle healing herbs to the ghetto/ Yeah… these parables that I stir in the kettle/ Got these Pharisees saying the nerve of this devil/ They plot to crucify me, I plot my escape/ And feed the multitudes with bread on my plate/ Pen to pad magic, they mad at it/
Cause they practice corrupt mathematics/ They subtract black love, add black shame/ Divide the black family and equal black pain/ It's hard to act sane/ when your people lack things/ The weight of your fat chains give you back pain/ Hunched over, from life's crap game/ But we brush away the residue of the crack game/ Make beauty from the tragic, seeing far pass it/ We the fantastic, Phoenix from the ashes/ So the classics flow through ink/ I'm what the game's missing like the nose on the sphinx/ That tiny little witty bitty bit of history/ That make sense of what you thought was a mystery/

Anderson Scott:
Crack sales, Black males blackmailed/ Welcome to Black hell/ Where the kids have kids and the kids grow/ to either spit flows, hit dro or pitch blow/ From the get go/ Up at the Citgo, pushing that 'Klitchko' just to get dough/ Raised to be schitzo, this life gets so/ hard on the boulevard for anybody piss po'/ Monetary dreams, solitary nightmares/ All Black kids chase all white Nike Airs/ So they gotta get their paper straight/ be it via major weight or either with the papermate/ I need a paper weight, its getting windy/ My raps start hashmark- topics so trendy/ In a world so stingy, land so shady/ jealousy and envy makes a man go crazy/ We should be committed be we're scared of commitment, hence we will never see commencement- for instance/ When its time to graduate/ we gradually gravitate to making fiends salivate, and we wind up at the magistrate/ So instead of having cake we end up with a ravaged state/ of mind trying to calculate money at a rapid pace/ We're in a rabbit race, we're getting left back/ But I'm on this fresh track, screaming "F" that!/ I've got my fist raised, my eyes wide/ I skim the history books, 'cuz that's where lies hide/ I've got my umbrella, in case the skies cry/ I smoke spliffs with my clik, ni**a HIGH 5IVE!!/ I'm a walking contradiction/ my sickness can heal afflictions/ This elixir leaves your body soothed/ Slick as karate shoes, now make your body move.

Hook
One, two step to this (4x)
Make your body move (4x)
Do your feel good dance (4x)
Track Name: Essential Bars (Act I)
Imago Dei:
Uh..The flow fantastic/ Step to the mic and work a little magic/ I’m rhyming in the spirit of the classic/ This verse will be trending like I hash tagged it/ Verbal habits got ya girl spazzing/ Early spike lee, she's gotta have it/ On top like a canopy/
She wanna get off Casey Anthony/ She kind of freaky and a little sneaky/ So I hit it like she told Hopo to beat me/ Got more styles than Atlanta got Peachtrees/
So I'm on the field, you nose bleeding in the cheap seats/ Boo..knocking us/ but you ain't stopping us/ So far back you can't see us with binoculars/And you ain't blocking us, matter of fact you jocking us/ Watching us, trying to figure out how to copy us/ Just stop it cuz, we distributing pain/ Like Night Train Lane/ When we breaking they frame/ Knock them out of the game and we damage their brain/ We concussion to these rappers they can't remember their name/ So don't test ya luck/ You might find yourself on ice like hockey pucks/ Y'all out of fashion, I'm lyrically chucks/ Like the AVN awards, all yall literarily suck/ I get the brain of nerds/ But I'll knock you off ya block like Angry Birds/ Speak of birds, your girl's a big gulp there/ And she want to download my load like my hulkshare/ Yeah, I was sent here to piss u off/ Your net worth don't even equal what my shit would cost/
Yo Snub, let's tell em what it is/ And dead these rappers so lyricism can live/ Cause we a bare essential, a necessity/They just a add-on, an accessory
I make my mama proud, she's so impress with me/ So I could care less if these lames think less of me/
Track Name: Body Language
Anderson Scott:
Shhhhh.. Let's let our bodies have a chat/ My lips converse with the small of your back/ Then after that, I'll grab a 'prophylac' and reenact scenes of "When Animals Attack"/ baby you don't know jack bout what I'm doing in the sack/ I will prove that them other dudes pursuing you are wack/ I can come up to your job and make your undergarments slippery/ Or meet you in class- I can go down in history/ That last line was kinda mannish/ But this Jose Cuervo's got our bodies speaking Spanish/ Mi flacco, still muy guapo/ Baby girl, I'm macho- colder than guspacho/ My word play has got your mind in the gutter/ and mine is on the lines that your thighs just uttered/ I grab some shea butter- rub it on your backside/ I'm a reformed sex addict, but I'm about to backslide/ Pulling on your hair, no trace of tracks, au natural- beautiful, face to match/ abs like (pow!) booty like (damn!)/ not to use a cliche, but I'm bout to go HAM/ Throw on some slow jams, you can ride me to the rhythm/ I'll explore your red chakra until you're visualizing prisms/ My wish is for your kisses, my twist is rather vicious/ My whispers between your two hips taste delicious/ Anything broken I will fix it- this is body language, anatomical linguistics/ Baby, anything broken I will fix it, this is body language, anatomical linguistics..

Hook
Let me talk to you
Talk to me
Talk to you
Talk to me
Talk to you
What you gotta say??

Imago Dei:
Teach me your body language, translate every inch/ I'll massage you in Swedish, you can kiss me in French/ Bite ya bottom lip, and I'm catching the hint/ The vibe is in the air don't got to ask what you meant/ See, you ain't say a word, but I still heard you/ Cause 93 percent of communication is non-verbal/ So i know you on your way no need to call before you come/ When I say the alphabet while your cat got my tongue/ I know I’m kinda nasty/ But you a freak too, you just make it look classy/ Pass me in public and subtly flirt/ But behind close doors you like to whistle while you twerk/ It seems all queens, got a little stripper in them/ Apple bottom jeans, I love the way you fitting them/ I love when you put them on, just so I can take em off/ I love when fix yourself up, so I can break you off/ And ravish your ravishing physique/ As you lavish me with dirty talk in Portuguese, Greek/ Dialogue in the dark, take the conversation deep/ Sexy dialect, your body is a figure of speech/ Your ditty bop be the meanest/ Those heels exploit you assets like Hot and Tot Venus/ Your anatomy be speaking like of a genius/
And I'm just over here trying catch the meaning

Hook
Track Name: Funny Man
Anderson Scott:
The crowd jumps to their feet/ Whistling, screaming, standing on their seats/ The aforementioned fans follow him like a fleet/ On twitter praying that he acknowledges them in his tweets/ But on the low-low discreet, the minute he retreats/ backstage he’s sticking needles in his bicep meat/ He has everything to lose, still he gambles every night/ In his performance, he staggers to their delight/ Then one night, he stops at a light, and thought that it would be the right time for him to hit a pipe/ He pulls a sack of rocks out of his thousand dollar socks/ about to put the flame to it, then (shit) here comes the cops/ He’s face down on the block while the audience watch/ Twitpic-ing the shit, sending emails to Fox/ The beast he created turned to attack him, they stopped laughing with him, and started laughing at him..

Imago Dei:
In high school he was the class clown/ He got no reason to laugh now
He was known for shucking and jiving/ they called it cooning, he called it surviving/ you shoe sizing, try these on/ And see don't your feet get corns/ An abundance of fungus and bunions/ His life's a tear jerking like snorting on onions// mama was a junky, daddy was a drunk/ Use to punch him in the face to make sure he wasn’t a punk/ Use to punch mamma to, never gave a reason/Sent him to his room. At night he hear her screaming/ So when he make em laugh, he’s running from his past/ And nightmares of his child hood coming for his ass/
Masking the tears as his life becomes a parody/ Pills for the soul, funny therapy/


Anderson Scott:
Rappers get to beefing and reporters start cheesing/ Their quarterly report says “This is our season”/ A singer OD’s, an athlete cheats/ AND some rappers got beef? This shit is sweeps/ Send a couple cameras, edit a few quotes/ Write a blog and retweet verbatim what you wrote/ But what you wrote, got somebody shot- / Now you’re blogging about how the violence needs to stop..

Imago Dei:
As the jail doors lock, reality sets in/ on the reality star who thought fame was his best friend/ flexing at the guard, he said you know who I am/ The guard said no and I don’t give a damn/ Man, a year ago the crazy antic/ Had the crowd enchanted and the ratings gigantic/ Now frantic in a cell with nobody to call/ I guess the quicker they rise the harder they fall/
Track Name: The Essentials (All You Need)
Imago Dei:
This is for nine to fivers breaking their back instead of pushing crack/ While y'all pushing lies, I'm pushing the facts/ The every day hustla ain't pushing like that/ So when you sell out to sell you just pushing us back/ They use to be pushing that black power movement/ So we take it back with this black power music/
Militant just like the Black Panthers / Cause now a days apathy's the new black cancer/ And y'all killing us with mics y'all hand/ Y'all a bigger threat to niggas than the Klu Klux Clan/ Say you keep street out of love for you fan/ The hood's just a demographic in you marketing plan/ It seems every thing's a marketing scheme/
Niggas market their rags and market their bling/ Market their souls and then market their dream/ And take artist advice from their marketing team/

Hook:
Food, clothing, shelter, water and bread
We all gotta get fed
This is all you need
This is all you need

Food, clothing, shelter, safety and love
We need all the above
This is all you need
This is all you need

Anderson Scott:
It started with the break beats, now we got tracks/ It started out in poverty now we make stacks/ It started on the park bench, now we pack stages/ Cats used to fight, now they clik clak gauges/ Through it all MCing has been consistent/ Using words as a means of resistence/ We used to have to shop demos- persistent/ Now we're able to go worldwide with no assistance/ So this is for the 8 hour studio blocks/ Cats convert their basement into studio spots/ 'Cuz all your really need is a mic and then that's it/ I don' seen dudes soundproof their booth with a mattress/ Huddled up in cyphers is our version of practice/ Its the only diversion from the murderous tactics/ So we don' took the atlas, reverted it backwards/ tracked it, got it mastered- now the merger is classic..

Hook:
Food, clothing, shelter, water and bread
We all gotta get fed
This is all you need
This is all you need

Food, clothing, shelter, safety and love
We need all the above
This is all you need
This is all you need
Track Name: Essential Bars (Act II)
Say my name and watch the weak flee/ the way I'm reppin' got em sweating up their deep V/ The women peep me, bustin' a sweet 'free'/ She let me palm 'er like lemonade and sweet tea/ Your flow makes the rap fans weepy/ and frustrated like when Josh Smith shoots a deep three/ (mine is refined) I got dimes in a line/ all 'cuz of the way my hot rhymes intertwine/ I love the scent of wine, sprinkle in a hint of pine/ You're as fake as Henna tats, my ink is genuine/ Or genuine, so worship and genuflect/ Our cassettes are on points- they're bayonnettes/ We leave you wet, verbally have you stankin/ Sleeping with the fish, nigga plankin with the planktons/ I call my nigga Jawz like 'you thinking what I'm thinking/ Let's 'reverb' the nation and decrease a nigga's rankings/ I'm never blanking/ I get rich off my website alone- call that online banking/ I'm so frickin' literary/ Non fiction, I got the diction of a visionary/ You claim you pack pipes when you grab the mic, but the last time you drew a gun was playing Pictionary/ Your chick is sick of missionary/ She likes smart guys, and I've got a big dic-tionary/ We got beats for weaks/ All of our tracks got 'fly kicks' like Peters Street/ I'm a sneaker freak, you ain't got stripes/ I'm on stage cooking dope, bitch I rock mics/ We hop flights, y'all catch trains/ I'm trying to meet Pinky... and catch Brains/ I leave your neck sprained, my shit is action packed/ You're a box office flop like when rappers act/ You hear the rat-a-tats thats the sound of battle raps/ Alleyway battlecat, Hough Heights habitat/ Been making cabbage stack since I was rocking Hammer slacks/ sitting in my Mamma's flat doing the frickin cabbage patch/ I'm underrated, plus I'm under the gun/ Under those circumstances, no wonder I've come/ to be one little arrogant son of a gun/ tweeting broads from the bubble bath- nigga I'm Run.../ D' MC- nicknamed Snub/ Your chick claims my dick's name is Big John Studd/ We rip down clubs, putting Hemp in the air/ then we strip down your girl now she's essentially bare
Track Name: Enjoy Tonight (f/Coco Jones)
Imago Dei:
It don't matter who started it/We both gotta work it out/
It don't matter who shoulder the coldest/ Or who fired first in the war of the roses/ If we don't put the guns away, we both get shot/ We both got stock invested in this pot/So we both need it to rise/ But flames burring out like the glare in your eyes/ You used to snuggle up on my side of the bed/ And rub your ice cold feet up the side of my leg/ Now your mood swings be playing with my head/You want that TLC but you too proud to beg/ Crazy sexy cool, dancing in your pajamas/ But then you turn around and start giving me drama/ Maybe you get from your momma/ Or maybe it's just my bad karma/ Look, I ain't saying I'm a saint/
I know sometimes I go too hard in the paint/ I know sometimes I say you are when you ain't to blame/ And I'm the reason things ain't the same/ Sometimes I'm ya prince other times a toad/ Are we trying to make round pegs fit in square holes/ Maybe we should let go and call it quits/ Maybe we got to many broken parts to fix/ But I don't believe that, you don't believe that/ We don't believe that, I gotta to concede that/ Though I get mad/ you the best I ever had/ And the despite our problems the good out weighs the bad/

Hook:
Baby, let's just chill we don't have to fight
Don't worry about who's wrong, let's enjoy tonight..


Anderson Scott:
Who knew that this is how Cupid would do us/ We argue to the point that the neighbors could sue us/ But I live through us/ baby I 'need' you, like the tall kid who sat behind you on the schoolbus.. (kneed you) My sense of humor intrigues you/ I might joke sometimes but I'll never deceive you/ Believe me, I know sometimes things ain't easy/ But that is no reason for you to talk all greasy/ Giving the silent treatment like silence is a punishment/ But all the yelling makes my head hurt, so honestly, I'm loving it/ We broke the covenant, forgetting the vow/ That we made when we promised not to bicker, and now.../ I'm feeling mistreated, are you really this heated/ 'cuz I left the seat up when I pee'd and the shit skeeted/ Yes, that's trifling, but that is no reason for you to interrupt me watching NBA postseason/ You got my ears bleeding, but all the beefin'/ is no where near as scary as the thought of you leaving/ So I apologize sincerely, I really do../ Now move out the way, you're blocking my view.

Hook
Baby, let's just chill we don't have to fight
Don't worry about who's wrong, let's enjoy tonight..
Track Name: After All (The Stress)
Imago Dei:
My grand mother dropped out at fifth grade, started cotton picking/ Now my daughter got racks on racks for college tuition/ Went from sharecropping/ To share copping/ From stocking shelves/ To stock options/ And I ain't saying that I’m living a dream/ Reflecting on the past some memories sting/ When me and my wife eloped, we didn't have rings/ And I'll be dame if every meal we didn’t have beans/ The hue of life is blue with out any green/ And back then money was tight like skinny jeans/ Could make the budget stretch enough to fit around the bills/ Had that Prozac stress, but I didn't down those pills/ Now things changed we eating salmon for meals/ Vacations in Cancun but I know how it feels/
To stay in the house, rationing fuel/ But now we drive around town just to capture
the view/

Anderson Scott:
...Victory's so sweet/ Especially when snatched from the grips of defeat../ The words I'm kickin over beats/ got me equipped to kick it with the fiscally elite/ My plans for success are officially complete (sweet)/ anything less is obsolete/ My belief is nothing is brighter than my mystique/ so I'm gon keep doing me despite your critique/ Peep, I went from scraping up scraps/ to waking up listeners by making up raps/ From taking up space to occupying minds/ I'm too preoccupied with my grind to wait in line/ Designed by the Divine, then he broke the mold/ Behold, a nigga turning granite into gold/ Granted it was cold but damnit I was told/ that I can do it all, so I refuse to fall
Track Name: Eyes Closed
Imago Dei:
Rolling down the road/ eyes closed mind open/ Liver soaking, trying to stay focused/ Hoping this thunderbird can drown my sorrow/ But I ain't got a problem, I'll put it down tomorrow/ But today i gotta knock the edge off/ Cause its cats in the street who wanna knock my head off/ Like I sped off with their dope my trunk/ Been a bounty on my head for a couple of months/ So I ain't sleep in a couple of weeks/ Naw, I ain't bathed in a couple of days/ Foggy windshield, ice on the street/ Need to slow down but I'm stuck in my ways/ Always on the verge of merging with the destruction/ Way over the limit, sweaty palms clutching/ The wheel/ Bad breaks, speeding down hill/ Addicted to the danger trying find a thrill/ Took the red pill, now I am feeling blue/ Ignorance is bliss, stress comes with the truth/ So I got no excuse I know what to do/ But I'm still fiending for a taste of witches brew/ So seductive, got me under her spell/ Chasing her tail might get me under the jail/ See I got a good girl that I don't wanna hurt/ But these freaks got my kryptonite up under their skirts/ Temptation's a bitch/ I got so many scars from scratching that itch/ It's like my mental tires can't get a grip/ So when I go around her curves I end up in a ditch/

Hook
The wifey or the hoes
Fresh fruit or fresh clothes
Soup for the soul or candy for the nose
I’m driving down the road, with my eyes closed
I’m driving down the road, with my eyes closed

Anderson Scott:
I got my foot on the gas on the highway of life/ Range whippin’, lane switching- fly way of life/ Never merge- never yield- peel on the blacktop/ Hustling them crack rocks, trying to dodge Black cops/ System so loud, I can barely hear the gats pop, or the sirens/ Living out my dreams/ Eyes need Visine, can’t see the rear view/ Trying to dodge obstacles impossible to steer through/ Tank on ‘E’, liver on ‘F’/- puffed about an ‘O’- plus a nigga’s on ‘X’/ Exit expressway, I should be going home-/ Instead I’m on the phone finding some woman to bone/ I ask if she’s alone, she lies and says YES/ knowing damn well there’s niggas on her steps, toting Tecs/ I could be at the crib, reading to my kids, instead I’m on a gurney/ about to take my journey/ Ain’t no turning back/ Matter of fact, if I had went to my habitat, I wouldn’t have heard the rat-a-tats/ End of my time, the purpose of my rhyme/ is that it’s kinda hard to see the warning signs when you’re blind..

Hook
The wifey or the hoes
Fresh fruit or fresh clothes
Soup for the soul or candy for the nose
I’m driving down the road, with my eyes closed
I’m driving down the road, with my eyes closed
Track Name: Back to Africa
Anderson Scott:
Crack rocks, black blocks, black glocks/ Nigga this is Black Ops/ Modern Warfare, on welfare/ We sell drugs ‘cuz we can’t afford Health Care/ There’s no wealth there/ but still I don’ balled in more cities than Telfair (hell yeah)/ Volume on eleven as I roll past the reverend/ whose irreverence I reference in the tracks I be blessing/ Bumpin’ Smif n Wessun, ducking Smith and Wessons/ I’m guessing the school of hard knocks got cheap lessons/ This is the syllabus, my syllables are venomous/ Real niggas ‘like’ it, wack niggas ‘unfriending’ us/ Ghetto life is strenuous, ‘cuz they’re sending us/ to prison for selling the same poison that they’re giving us/ I am luminous, I used to push a Lumina/ I used to get weed money selling back aluminum/ Higher than the price of petroleum/ the day I’m wack, Big Ghost will start writing for Nickelodeon/ Let’s get money, under one criteria../ we give some of that back to Nigeria

Hook
Take it back to Africa- Exodus
Now one two step to this
One two step to this
One two step to this

Imago Dei:
Two Step from Africa to America/ Marshall law barricades in your area/
While you stressing the hysteria/ I’m verbalizing the vaccine for Malaria/ Toking a cigar rocking a fedora/ Laid up chillin with my fly senora/ Backyardigans ,Dora the Explorer/ I through that in just to get a smile from daughter/ Fela Kuti mix on Pandora/ Pondering religion reading scriptures from the torah/ Expediently plan my Exodus on Expedia/ While y'all exhibit only what you see in the media/
The riddles that I scribble when the pen gets clutch/ Make you move ya butt/ You welcome very much/ If we pay they own way like we going dutch/
Then they can't say nothing when the spoils get touched/

Hook

Imago Dei:

This ain’t fair like apartheid/ Flow dumb but we still be the smart guys/ to match the excellence you digging through the archives/ Telling half truths but we still see the part lies/ It’s a séance when you blast this/ Resurrect souls lost in the middle passage/ Street passion, a dash of high fashion/ And retribution for my folks police be harassing/ Nat Turner plotting war on the masters/ This that cash that’s stashed a mattress/ And put aside to fund those out the hood classes/ Let me added it up and tell you what the math is/ We add black love, subtract black shame/ Multiply the black family and equal black gain/ Cause when we do our thing, we do it like no other can/ So one two step back to the motherland/