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• Artiste: Shabazz Palaces
• Titre: Are You... Can You... Were You? (Felt)
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it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. i woke up to it, heavy, alight with trueness always a way of losin', compelled to knew it my body traveled, my mind waits behind the music my crime bemuses, "relax inside my shiny blueness." time: i understand it, but i never choose it i cant explain it with verbs, i have to do it the shit by-came here on advantage we automatic, don't try to plan it but shit, just when it comes, handle it behind the lessons, miles beneath the slick dressin' niggas is stressin'. 'bout shit they should be sure, they're guessin'. i twirl it cool and peer the rear view cause they are arrestin'. though rich in suit and chinese slipppers, i'm stil impressive up on the racks old school cap from way back gave'm my milk, cuz he now wipin' off (that's my impression.) he asked me, "how you float all sharp and always have a fresh one, and seem to know the answer to the most proverbial questions?" i told him, "why, i'm gonn' ask ya..." swirled it in a book of sketches-- i find the diamonds underneath the subtlest inflections. ha aw, dude... the spicier the food: when you chew, fuck their rules. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. it's a Feeling. that's...that's... that's somethin' fresh that's somethin' fresh nonetheless, nonetheless rhymin' in the Felt, in the Felt at a tender age we learned to turn the page to mind the screen and stage, to see who got the glaze to hustle up or fade either get made or play find your spot in the shade, and nigga get paid. so we internalize that, but then we customize that ride the relationship between where our ground and our sky's at i slowed it down once, everyone was goin' fast so? so i sped up, cause i ain't one to reach the end last MORPH to where the grimy sparkles amongst the shiny talkers the pistol poppers that made pretty noise and get them dollars and while the world watches, we sent our street scholars to bust some presidents in hundred thousand dollar watches some of the feds got us--some of us dead--lied to us. still solid, though usin' all the licks the streets taught us and what that heat cost us, and what that loss gave us fuckin' with the people--it's always gonna come back around. it's bout to be big movements from below the golden age lies ahead struck ghost: proceed. you can't lie to yourself to yourself, you can't lie how it Felt no surprise how the cards gettin' dealt, that's why i won't be back for a long time.