[Black Thought]

On the actual, I swings like I'm Satchel

And brings groovy things to my peoples on the natural

Inclined to align, index to other flow and through beats

the butta kid got yet another bid to serve

in groovy stew, peace to all the kids who smuggle buddha

cross the border cause it beez a remedy to ?cola roda?

Recruiter of refugees, the urbanite objects

Wreck to catch the gravy, grass be the po' baby

that I planted in the long run, dig the rhythmic song from

the one who goes left see, how many brothers test me?

Touch, the texture of the weak and yo I wrecks the comb

from picking cause I'm cool and umm, kicks 'pon the dome

I'm kicking, on the regular I puts masses in motions

Shit'll split your mind open like a canteloupe then

The Roots and the boots Don boost to stomp potholes

Mr. Job Kicker, ease off, cause I got soul enough

to sell it, yo let spell it, B-L-A-C-K

T-H-O-U-G-H-T don't play

When I skits off a land funk that boogies up your pants and

kicks flavor dug by your gramps in Johansen

Jazz cats that's hip, plus them brothers who scramble

Your uncle and your cousins and the wino who gamble..



Hahaha, and for my next trick