217

(One two one two)

(I guess this is it… I love y’all)

Arrivederci, honey, you know the goings been good
A little rough around the cut but, yo, it roll like it should
Songs of fire and ice, make sure the science is tight
somewhere on the off chance that the Mayans were right
Finish the session, mix and master the weapons
settled back to do impressions as Armageddon sets in
This has been your host for the evening, Swords
Thanks for all the support and the rounds of applause
So keep it clapping while I’m waxing on wax at Kopi
I promise the next record will be much less mopy
Really though, I’m just along for the ride
Living my life on the spare for the nickels and dimes
I dine fine, work hard, live fast and play it fair
Forbear these snares to avoid a Red Scare
Truth is, beats aside, I’m really just a rapper
Walking my shame back to the happily ever after
Getting promiscuous, the style askew meticulous
my beats are different than the latest, gimme a witness
For the confidence in style that is getting me paid
for the confidence in spit which is getting me laid

(217 baby) (that’s the place where I’m at)
(Arrivederci, honey, you know the goings been good)
(217 baby) (that’s the place where I’m at)
(And all these songs can stand as matters of fact)

The year of transition, thank God I recorded it
So much for ambition, yo I say we forfeit it
But I’m on a damn mission, the world, to orbit it
Going by my Christian, final stage of metamorphisis
I saw the future in a bottle of Avion
headed up to Chicago for my grandma’s funeral
Now I spit it for her ghost with a steady arm
Keeping it literary, giving you less of the usual
Unique like New Yor, keep the beats with an ill score
Passion, skill or the ideals you kill for
Must be something in the fucking reason I rap
While the rest of the world was appeasing the whack
I take it back sixty eight, tracing ya face
playing the ace in the deck except I’m making a break
somewhere south of the border, maybe west of the sun
so sing it, baby, I was born to run
And sometimes, it seems uncertain
But the truth is, baby doll, I’ve been working
Making excuses, for these sermons as such
cuz in reality I’m just another person you touch
It’s all it’s cracked up to be, now I’m shacked up
Passed out while I get a back rub
Swords, so put it up and this is the midwest
Yes to the yes, this has been

(depth)

(217 baby) (that’s the place where I’m at)
(Arrivederci, honey, you know the goings been good)
(217 baby) (that’s the place where I’m at)
(And all these songs can stand as matters of fact)