Common - Nag Champa (Afrodisiac For The World) lyrics

[Common] Yeah baby boy In the place (for you and yours) to be Da uh da uh, we got the uh ya'll We bout to rock ya'll, we got the uh baby... Yo yo yo check it Excite-ting, enlight-ning, invite-ting I'm writin sh** that I feel Raps are Black Steel In the Hour of commotion, the motion of Com Is like that of a ocean, devotion cuz I'm The Earth, Wind, and Fire of hip hop By Rakim and Short I been inspired My sh** knocks environ---ments of cats wit seventeen's tint, time is money The mind is funny, how it's spent on gettin it It's sittin wit descendants of Abraham Who say the jam is "Money, Cash, Hoes" I went from bashful to a**hole to international Lover-self, word to the mother on my last record cover it's felt Now deal wit it [Chorus: Bilal] I wanna get into it Let's do this I wanna see you move it So move it So let's just get into it Let's do this Can you feel the music? The music oh ah, can you feel the music, the music [Common] Yo check it yo In this never-ending battle to please n***as, magazine writers, MC's Who request hot sh**, I freeze And tell em where I was rose, we always said cold Hold your Horses and ya Carriages, this never-went-gold n***a 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 f**in 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 I'm amongst it, save the war stories for Private Ryan, INI [Chorus] [Common] 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 Oprah's My refrigerator poetry's magnetic like ultra You couldn't hang if you was a poster Posin like a b**h for exposure It's rumors of gay MC's, just don't come around me wit it You still rockin hickies, don't 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 baby's 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 it's time to head home? [Chorus x2] [Common] [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