Patra

[Verse 1: Elucid] Ratchet pussy cum laude landing me in in the county Knee deep, ooh that body pumping hottie, yeah you got it Highly favored my behavior-type erratic panic We don’t seem to notice posers' semi-frozen gap-tooth grin Hold it open, rivers parted Bowery to Harlem close my eye Purle, pink, and orange, arch back, harlot talk sore knees Marble floor Madonna whore, I’m reborn Fresh to swallow salt and warm the old hair linen Scent of coco mango Abyssinian Soft focus off them cop the halo shining brilliant Neon hue saturated complementary angles Two-hundred roses on the bureau, tens, fives and singles Lightly powdered mirrors and coquettish lingo Social lubricant maneuvering, rings around the pearl leaf No allusion, punani pugilist, sticky fluids pooling She finds it humorous, our union intense, cooling off the clock Nude save for socks, deluding myself, foolish matters of the heart Bruised, battered, and scarred, in arms reach palms grease Link with prepaid bond, Indian ink, stick-n-poke psalms Solomon’s song [Chorus: Elucid] What I’ve been waiting for What I’ve been waiting for What I’ve been waiting for What I’ve been waiting for [Verse 2: Billy Woods] Fantasy island, wrapped in plain brown paper Wildin', but none the wiser be the neighbors Strobe light, honey, this much flavor Since teens with two or three magazines, basic cable screens Scrambled, had to read between the lines like spice channel Latch-key, jackpot! When we check behind the right panel White women, white leaches, white sandals, put ‘em back in the right order Oh so carefully handled, imagination alight VHS tapes smuggled under cover of night Sound off, room dark, screen bright Chair under door handle wedged tight Track and jump, jump, jump, all she had on was a perm and red pumps Fearful symmetry frame faces, curled lust and pain indistinguishable The Asian woman said “let me finish him, it’s only right He the lonely type,” gave her pipe, eyes squeeze Endless loop it seems, forty-second street, Field of Dreams If you build it they will come, she put him on the glass He fed the bills, forefinger and thumb, hit it like drums Rabbit holes, slippery slopes, stag party numb They hid behind jokes, cigar smoke Tumblers of brown liquor, eight-millimeter European pictures flicker Wishing is whispered to private dancers Lit the private rooms by sullen lantern Painted faces peeling laughter He never touches, just watches like the pastor [Chorus: Elucid] What I’ve been waiting for What I’ve been waiting for What I’ve been waiting for What I’ve been waiting for