Nostalgia

Lost in the music and no one understands me
My friends, the fans, my wisdom and family
Make your heads bop
And that's not enough
Gold and platinum plaques are still not enough
From the streets of Queens I hail
Whose gonna be there if my attempts fail
Is it you, you, you, her or him?
I am like a tree and every lyric is a limb
The studio sessions, pain on paper
In the other studio records Large Pro
In between verses we break bread
The beats, the rhymes, ways to get ahead
School days, Stanley Clark
Grandmaster Vic live at Paisely Park
Coke adds life, it blared out the speakers
Blue and white hi-tops (?) sneakers
My name in grafitti
(?) x-men
A crew of known writers
At the time was my best friends
Black books, designers, the smell of Krylon
Bus to the terminal to meet up with Driptron
Its a Queens thing

Yeah
Uh huh
Word word
Everything has its wonders
The darkness and silence
And I learned
Whatever state I may be in
There in to be continued

Some hit the books
Others hit the blocks
I create beats, he's got a jumpshot
Freddie's on the corner drinking 180 proff
Cause his pregnant niece jumped from the project roof
Another family mourns, absence of malice
A woman give birth, fertility, earth
I formulate the rhyme and chop it up in sections
Let me be your angle and I'll be your protection
Concrete jungle, fly like a dove
Bernard Wright record title who do you love
Manchild in the ghetto, my father loved jazz
Quincy Jones summertime, razzamatazz
It played from an 8-track, night train, thunderbird
Sip from a plastic cup

Word word
Word
The marvelous richness of human experience
Eludes something of avoiding joy
If there were no limitations to overcome
The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful
If there were no dark valleys to traverse
Nostalgia