Common Sense F/ Bilal

A Film Called (Pimp) – Common Sense F/ Bilal, MC Lyte

[Common talking]
You know, they call me a pimp, and you know what that mean
I’m a Person that’s Making Profit. See I pimp internationally
I’m nationally recognized, locally accepted
I pimp with the truth, that’s the only method

Seen her on Madison where Vice Lords be Travelin
And Chevy windows be rattlin
and badder than any other broads that I’ve seen in these parts
Her body language spoke like a smart remark, eyebrows arched
Thick lips, blond wig, nice tits, ass the size that I dig
Asked her the name, one way to approach her
See she had game, she needed me to coach her
Expose her to some paper, freedom and culture
The way a righteous pimp is supposed to

[MC Lyte]
As he came closer in his eyes I seen fortune
I ain’t having it like abortion
Walking with this stick holding his tip
Looked like a Black Panther that was trying to pimp
It was cold as shit, I’m waitin on my ride
Act like I didn’t see him I tried

Motion denied (pause)
I felt the vibe like Roy Ayers
She was used to seeing pimps in furs and gators
Told her I’m an innovator, a gentlemen of leisure
That’s in tuned with nature, hold Common’s hand
I’m a take you to a pimps promise land
Where no man can break ya, break ya, break ya

Chorus: Bilal (singing)

Pimps, ho’s, hustlers, plans, dealers,
customers, and bodies stuck in it, Oh my god
Pimps, ho’s, hustlers, plans, dealers,
customers, and bodies stuck in it, Oh my god

{hey girl, come on over here, check it out)
Make your next move your best move, choose me

[MC Lyte]
How I look working for a nigga in a cuffe’
If I was on a track you couldn’t produce me
With them shits on your wrist looking goofy

(yea ok)
I pimp without a pause, for the cause, I’m a rebel
You been on the streets I’m trying to take you to another level
You used to the same game, cats saying the same thang
Nigga you gone ho underground or ho mainstream

[MC Lyte]
Nigga you must not know of me
I’m the mack here
Ought to have you ho for me (Common: get real now)
Pimp yo punk ass
Have you write me poetry
I’m from a land called cash
You too slow for me

You know why?
I’m thinking bigger than Bagets
Birds in slick cars
Or have you on the corner trickin in strip bars
If you become mine the world would be ours
Respect the game, and universal laws

[MC Lyte]
What, I oughta pimp slap your ass and make you fall against the wall
(Common: try it)
Why you in the game if you ain’t even trying to ball
I know pimpin ain’t easy but damn you barely surviving
We can’t ride together cause you ain’t driving
(Common: oh it’s like that)


(this, this, this really how I look at it check it)
You and I together is like Ashford and Simpson
Picture us elbow to elbow at the hustler’s convention

[MC Lyte]
Think I’m gone risk my ass then give you the cash (Common: yep)
That shit is the past
I got my own stable (Common: where at)
I oughta pierce your navel and put you on the track
Matter of fact I been looking for a ho that’s abstract

Girl you getting beside yourself
I’m trying to guide you
Help you see inside yourself
I pimp with vision, I’m a help you see the light
Have you covering your body and have you eating right

[MC Lyte]
(is that right)
I’m pimp ho’s, pimp pens, (Common: Say what)
Pimp rhythms, pimp flows,
Pimp men (Common: and pimp what)
Pimp systems
Got stores called big pimpin (Common: Where)
Down South
In Texas I ran the best ho house

I pimp from Brazil to um, Tokyo
Have Japanese broads sayin ‘choushi wa dou’ (MC Lyte: Yea rig

By admin on October 28, 2013 | A Song Lyrics | A comment?
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Nag Champa (Afrodisiac for the World) – Common Sense F/ Bilal

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

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


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

By admin on September 21, 2013 | N Song Lyrics | A comment?