Birds of the same feather flock together
Congested on a majestic street corner
That's a short time goal for most of 'em
Cuz most of 'em
Would rather expand their wings and hover over greater things
That's what we call inspired flight
By the pigeons that gotta eat pizza crust every night
And "Let there be light" was understood
When a mic-stand descended from up-and-above into the hood
And if my face is worth a thousand words when it's scarred
I would only hope that two of those are cocoa and butter
To heal the wounds
Of the tissue scarred to mark the death of my womb
But I've graduated, got my wings
And you've got to let go of my constructed Lego egg-o-waffle halo
Eh yo, I'm a black man, with an African
Drum in my chest that beats on the opposite of the right
Let me know I got a breath left
In this frigid fragile capsule
That allows you to fly south before the winter winds trap you
I wrap my "hell I made it" wetsuit stitch
So I can swim in elevators crazy wet through piss
I'm just a pigeon with one mile left
That doggy-paddles through this bullshit ocean of death
And these rags-to-riches words will break bones
Like the assassination of two birds with one stone
That's why I don't associate with bird brains with their beaks in the air
Pelicans with wide jaws yap names
For fish heads you'll get tossed in the flames
Where some archaeologists will find your skeletal frame
13 ans plus tard, le plaisir demeure intact.
