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blue scholars - freewheelin lyrics

i draw words out of pens like swords out of sheathes
humidity intervene, now i’m high on god’s speed
upon the mic, immobilizing globe trotting colonizers
stomping on the rights of the poor,
the dest-tute i testify will rise in the matter of a lifetime
so climb into the mind through the scale over spine
when hips start slitherin’ to b-ss line rhythm
make the wallflower blossom
make me feel anonymous and conscious at the same time
i can’t remain calm waiting for a beat or a nuclear bomb to drop
so find us in a record shop with or without distribution
independent from the bullsh-t of a major
remember monday evening in the record stores at 12?
midnight to cop the new alb-m off the shelf
either savin’ up allowance or your minimum wage
for eight dollars, one tape man, you listen for days
i’m missin’ the days, freewheelin’ mean-muggin’ rivals,
for no good reason
just being adolescents and breathing, but we’ve been
so far from eden that this paradise is hard to believe in
i’m leavin’

i’m leaving
to a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain’t what they seem
i’m leaving
to find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin for days
i’m leaving
yo i’m going home to atone for abandonin my native tongue grown
from the soil of my soul that i’ll toil till i’m old
p-ssin the torch like the mic that i hold

plowin’ in the field allowin’ little time to rest
fly by night daytime i’m chillin’ in my nest
where memory is sendin’ me
an astral projection to way back then
i’m chasin’ rakim through the speakers
reachin’ for the makeshift microphone
mark’ll make your mom bark “turn down the radio,”
complainin about the cursewords
times absurd, the lines got blurred, another kid got served
and the whole house party bore witness to the occasion
thus started growing my early reputation
early 90 second generation fat b-sses
used to get hip bruises breakin’ in the bas-m-nt
mixed tape makin’ was an art that we’ve forsaken
and the hardest thing to do was cue the tape
i’m waiting on a sunday night listening to nastiness, payin the dues
when kexp was kcmu, true, i’m missin’ the days
freewheelin’ mean-muggin’ rivals,
for no good reason
just being adolescents and breathing, but we’ve been
so far from eden that this paradise is hard to believe in

i’m leaving
to a place dominated by spray-painted dreams that ain’t what they seem
i’m leaving
to find myself clinging to the edge of a notebook page, writin’ for days
i’m leaving
aye-yo i’m going home to atone for abandonin’ my native tongue grown
from the soil of my soul that i’ll toil till i’m old
p-ssin the torch like the mic that i hold

the horticulture’s in the pipe
so torch it with the light unfortunately
it’ll be gone, but not tonight (4x)

- blue scholars lyrics

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