Wicked little kinky joints that got us ghetto weight
When Booker jam with Eric at the funky five spot
And also kept the jazz alive by pullin' off the plates
Maybe only we was hip to stretchin' out the brain
Or better yet Dolphy's archetypes for cool dudes
(What you thought?)
I'm thinkin' take the hipness and just lay it in my form
I'm sinkin' deep to the sleekness of the horn
I found the reverberated shout was goddamn
The new scat slips, oh shit, we got fly kicks
In ten fourths y’all, I pay your cap y’all
I kicks to my pools by the nap of their hair
The logical extensions comin' boomin' out that trunk
Uh, the seasons been fat like some boom
From sector six, yeah and now and then too
I'm actually deep y’all, invented time y’all
The forty seven sessions gave the buzzes that I caught
Not the stars and stripes but red Cali? booms
The dads is gone but they used to come lovely
Pumas that butter got when butter got paid
I'm so shy y’all, I'm hip to badge y’all
Publisher: FOUR KNIGHTS MUSIC CO
I wreck the break y’all, don’t trust the flag y’all
I bust raps y’all, in love with naps y’all
I know the nat y’all I'm layin' out y’all, yeah
Songwriters: Stephen Bernstein, Ishmael Butler, Alan Goldsher, Joe Sample, Mary Ann Vieira
Or better still Trane usin' space in afro blue
But hipness takes a swirl and jams by my crew
My baby loves to kiss when Ornette just lays out
I'm pinnin' Uncle Sam for the death of swingin' quotes
It’s slick beats here and it’s out there
Butter cop his lid at this little Harlem jam
The tenor bop the middle and his shades and his tam
Wallowed through a gang a murk in the interim
The fly shit y’all, we don’t quit y’all
And angles on the moves really couldn’t get no blacker
I slows the trims y’all and fades a fake now
The sickness towards the world’s cause Sam caused the blues
I'm diggin' how these dudes made my buzz a little hipper
They kill the coolest breeze in this land of the free
The season’s been smooth like the suede
It’s like cool was the bop and the flair
Infect space y’all, we swing time y’all
So I pops it at your crew like Bu I did a lid
A smooth groove kid, the jive is high y’all
Flip off into a nod and dig myself a dyin' young
I told 'em it was solid, dig, the licks was way out
I hang out with a gang out flat bush with cool beats
For losin' Bud Powell slidin' over Dizzy's notes
Jimmy Cob's job was layin' crashes on the top
Assumin' that the room in which you zooms designed by your mind
So the quotes be as such bout the kits, uh
I say it’s in the blood cause it notin' but rhythm
And rhythm goes on and on to the break of moon, baby
I toss these major losses on the Mingus jazzy strum
But hey, present since gone Hank Mo's gone
I'm blue mood y’all, I slive with jiva y’all
Doodlebug’s math jazz fillin' up the room
You down with Digable Planets yous a hipster, shit
The sweet beats kid, I speak my thoughts y’all
The jazz power showers from the crew was sure legit
Like all my main mans gave they beats up for skags
It’s like milk yeah, it’s like be bop
I felt Bird Parker when I shot it in my vein
And questions 'bout the methods how the Planets made jam
I player late y’all and draw down to
So when the hoodlums flood waitin' for another anthem
I couple time we got jerked but still invented them
The season’s been good like a sweet
But I used Lee's Cooker got my buzz around midnight
I lay it on the cats about monk
And it been like that since they lied about they flag
They asked was it cool blues knowledge
It’s simple, swing be the freakin' of the time
It’s like jazz, uh, it’s like us now
Was it that the rebirth was the birth for new shit, of cool shit
I dig the birds y’all, I'm layin' out now, yeah
We ain’t marks y’all okay pow me up
And the rat-a-tat-tat by Max or Philly Joe on we go
The spinnin' by the kings good for speakin' of the mind