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the roots - the unlocking lyrics

-phone dialing and ringing-

[intro]
h-llo?
yo who dis
yo this (edited)
yo what up man
yeah what’s up dude, who dis
this is the black thought
oh, what’s up dude
yo what? yo we down at the studio yo
word?
and we got a jawn
yo she vibe?
yeah she vibe
what’s up wit’ her?
jawn i used to talk to, sometimes i used to knock off
word, how she be swingin’?
she swingin’ like that you know
oh word?
i called a couple other heads and sh-t, you know
ah, who else wit’ it?
(laughs)
i mean, she wit’ it like that?
yeah, you know
ain’t no bullsh-t?
you get the whole reservoir dogs squad and sh-t, it gon’ be ad
oh aight word
come on down, it’s on ad
ayo it, it’s just her?
yeah, it’s just her
oh d-mn, what’s up with some more jawns?
it’s just her and some weed, you know what i’m sayin’?
f-ck it, aight bet, you know what’s up, for real for real
yeah, so come through
aight what time yo?
umm like nine? yeah, come through nine
peace
peace

[verse: ursula rucker]
i the voyeur, peer, as she begins her, ritual
paying s-xual ties for few and untrue
words of admiration, translation:
sucker -ss, lines, of trash
spewing from first one’s unsk!lled lips
that beg for p-ssy tricks that make his d-ck go quickly limp
she pimps her innocence as second one demands entrance
through the back door..
“bend over b-tch, you know this is what you were born for;
to dig those soft and lotioned knees into the floor —
and take it in, that sweetly spread -ss like a real pro wh0r-”
her subsequent screams seemed to praise
sent messages of pleasure and pain to his f-ck tainted brain
but her screams masked laughs at his dumb -ss
as he quicker comes, then third and fourth one just as dumb
invite themselves to join in
third one wants to hit the skins old-fashioned style
while fourth one says
“don’t she got some dsl’s, make a n-gga joint just swell
to think? i wanna sink my inches, into that b-tch’s
berry-framed mouth”
so one goes north, the other south
to sanctified places where in-house spirits
will later wash away all traces, of their ill-spoken words
and complacent faces
and then, like their minutemen, predecessors
lude, aggrandized s-xual endeavors, end up rough
cause neither one of them could keep that weak sh-t up
corrupt, fifth one steps to her
hip-hop clothed just to, think he gonna impress her
“hey slim, i heard you was a spinna — sit on up
top this thing, black d-ck, and work it like a winner”
with the quickness he got his pseudo-thickness all up in her
but suddenly he, stops mid thrust

-yvette smalls’ pager goes off-

seems she nameless to cuz, got his stuff in a death c-nt clutch
he fast falls from the force of her tight p-ssy punch
just like the rest of that sorry -ss bunch
now here comes six ready to add his inactive sh-t to the mix
talkin smack at that
saying, “girl, i’mma wax that -ss, and stick that slit so hard
you gonna be calling me god”
so he proceeds to poke and prod
with clumsy finger and wack s-x slinger
“condoms make me last longer,” wrong, cause her
motions of sn-tch, however detached from the situation
cause his pre pre pre-ej-cul-tion
it seems she just wastin
good p-ssy and time on dudes like number seven
who ain’t learned their lesson
he wants to enter the flesh divine
by dropping a kind of semi-sweet line
“your honey hole so fine and mile deep; i’m gonna leap
into you like an ocean do you right and make your head spin”
so he jumped in and then, he drowned
got lost and found in her tart c-n-l
slave to the waves, made him c-m for days
eighth and last one turn arise
plys her with familiar lies
even more familiar still, cause
him she used to love
but he never could quite see above, her mound
a pound of flesh is all she was, no name no face or even voice
so poised, she rises — phoenix from the flame
finally bored with their feeble f-ck games
she smooth reaches behind her and takes straight aim
at eight shriveled up c-cks with a fully loaded glock
parts lips, not expressly made for milking d-cks
and then, she speaks:

your shreiks of horror bring me bliss, i must admit
the thought that i could shred your tips with eight quick flips
excites me, see y’all f-ck with the p-ssy
but i f-ck with your minds
lack of soul and respect is the crime
this.. was a set up.. now tell me what….. what’s my name?
– gun c-cks –

- the roots lyrics

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