Nag Champa (afrodisiac For The World) Lyrics - Common Sense

[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 shit that I feel 

Raps are Black Steel In the Hour of commotion, the motion of Com 

Is like that of a ocean, devotion 'cause I'm 

The Earth, Wind, and Fire of hip hop 

By Rakim and Short I been inspired 

My shit 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 asshole 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 

Niggas, magazine writers, MC's 

Who request hot shit, I freeze 

And tell em where I was rose, we always said cold 

Hold your Horses and ya Carriages, this never-went-gold nigga 

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 Fuckin 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 bitch 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 2x 

[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