*send corrections directly to typist*
 [Common]
 Yeah  this is the truth
 Common Sense  wit Tony Touch
 It's the type of music we be
 From Chicago to New York
 I ain't move  I'm just movin crowds baby
 Yo yo check it
 Supreme life  I seen light at the end of the path
 Beginning wit math  stumbled  found a gym in a half
 Cognac  pimps  Hennessey's resemble my dad
 Went to, the School of Hard Knocks, it's hard to remember the staff
 >From the land of shit-talk
 Point stars and pitch forks, this ain't a game, only a bitch barks
 The streets is stayin hard, peoples tryin to out-think God
 Tradin crack for link cards
 Heavy, so I sleep hard and breathe eye accounts
 In this paper marathon, meditatin to tapes of Farrakhan
 And Seravon, sharin songs wit broads, I know they need it
 It's like I'm Eldrige Cleaver wit my mind set on cleavage
 Reachin for the heavens since the bliss fell from the elevated, I speak
 Wit Technics like a 1200
 Black males wanted, the sign of the times
 Read: one for project prisons wanted dead
 I sped to the light, my realness bled through the mic
 Like Marvin, I'm willing to save the children givin lead to the night
 It was written but untold
 Some hold the scroll in the hearts, the truth is told in the arts
 Like old school to park, my thoughts connect
 No longer is it impeach the president or break to mic check
 I circumcised the clouds, wit thoughts that raise your third eyebrow
 Cuz the sun is my child, bloaw
 Yeah it's Com Sense, Tony Touch
 Peace to my god NO ID, yeah Y-Not, Dug Infinite, Sean Lett
 We just bringin it to y'all Chicago style to New York
 And we travellin all over the world, peace