[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 cuz 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