[Intro/Hook: Mr. Mister]
Baby, don't understand
Why we can't just hold on to each others hands
Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again
Learn to live so free
When we hear
The voices sing
The book of love
Will open up and let us in
[Verse 1: Joe Budden]
The voices ain't leave yet, they just getting they feet wet
Eyes red, I'm up, ain't been to sleep yet
Damn near two days, ain't even eat yet
If you don't wanna bounce, 'least take a little recess
And still I'm faced with the bullshit
Feeling like Willy D, Scarface and Bushwick
Dog, just when I gather its dead
I gotta knock on wood like Hank Gather's head
When I make small steps toward making it global
My tight knit circle turns into a oval
Filled with motherfuckas just pretending they know you
These snakes in the grass'll do whatever to coax you
Since they wanna hem you quick, I walk around like a Ginsu's tip
And that's just to get a mental grip
You don't feel what the pencil scripts
Then 8 times outta 10, you ain't been through shit
When you hear Joe you hear the conviction and diction
That open emotion, devotion is different
Real talk of when he ain't have a pot to piss in
He ain't have a car not one rock to glisten
I'm giving 'em non-fiction, conning his addictions
Ya'll got the easy job: just listen
I do it for my folk and those of another pigment
A little food for thought, you feeling malnutrition
But you don't hear a peep outta me
About the black face going on and the sheep leading sheep
It's deep, so I try to stay grounded like dad
Must be in City Island, I'm surrounded by crabs
Was once tight, grew apart for dollars
Was on the same panel, now we Star and Barbara
2 different views, 2 different lifestyles
I think along the way one of us got confused
Look, you a hustla, still attracted to the scene
Still doing shit I gave up at 16
You won't get a job, believing your own lies
You rationalize by saying you pursing your dreams
You damn near 30, nigga, you ain't got cream
Can't take care of you when you worried 'bout your team
My dude, want a hand out, wait in line
But the clock's still ticking, man, you playing with time
It's so sweet
Thought I was fucked up with no shoes 'til I met me a nigga with no feet
Tried to help niggas, some niggas I couldn't
That's my mom in me, I love niggas I shouldn't
Dudes wanna shoot 'em 'til he nailed
Some wanna threaten me, ruin my health
Let me teach you a little something 'bout depression
Ain't shit you could do to me I ain't already thought about doing to myself
I'm the voice for the youth that's living with no reason
Fuck record sales, I give 'em something to believe in
If your day starts in that broken home
Though we never met, 'least they feel like they not alone
Like I was back when I was trying to find dip
The tsunami came through my hood in '96
And tried to murder dog, I took a little dive
Then I got on my surfing board and kept sliding
Feel like A-Rod, some say his time's up
Boo a nigga at home, yup, I'm in my prime But
He by far the best player on the team
And then turn around, drop 'em to the bottom of the lineup
Should get traded, but he don't wanna move
Cause this the only city he got something to prove
And that's why I'm seen with heaters
Cause you can't be the man when you on the same team as Jeter, ya dig
It's like the game ain't getting suitable
Making me so sick I need Chicken Noodle Soup
Rappers 'Fly High', then got suicidal
Imitate Jim Jones, end up like Cory Lidle
I married hip hop, ignored what some was telling me
I started hearing rumors of infidelity
I ain't divorce 'er
All the other dudes is so whack that I ain't even feel a little jealousy
[Hook: Mr. Mister]
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