Lyrics Are you... Can you... Were you? (Felt) - Shabazz Palaces

It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling

I woke up to it
Heaven, a light with trueness
Always a way of losing
Compelled to knew it
My body travelled
My mind waits behind the music
My crime bemuses
Relax inside my shiny blueness

Time: I understand it
But I never choose it
I can't explain it with words
I have to do it
The ship I came here on vanished
We automatic
Don't try to plan it
But chyeah, just when it comes, handle it
Behind the lessons
Miles beneath the slick dressing

Niggas is stressing
Bout shit they should be sure they guessing
I twirl and cool and peel the rearview 'cause they are arresting
But wear jumpsuit and Chinese slippers
I'm still impressive
Up on the racks
Old school cat from way back

Gave him my meal 'cause he's not wiping off, that's my impression
He asked me how you float all sharp and always have a fresh one
And seem to know the answer to the most proverbial questions
I told him Wanga Etches while I wrote it in a book of sketches
I find the diamonds underneath the subtlest inflections
Aw, dude
The spicier the food
When you chew, fuck they roofs

It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling
It's a feeling

That's-
That-s
That's some' fresh
That's some' fresh
Nonetheless, nonetheless
Roaming in the fields, in the fields

At a tender age
We learn to turn the page
To mind the screen and stage
To see who got the glaze
To hustle up or fade
Either get made or played
Find your spot in the shade
And nigga, get paid
So we internalize that
But then we customize that
By the relationship between where our ground and our sky's at
I slowed it down once
Everyone was going fast
So I sped up 'cause I ain't one to reach the end last

To where the grimy sparkles
Amongst the shiny talkers
The pistol-poppers that make pretty noise and get them dollars
And while the world watches
We send our street scholars
To bust some presidents in hundred-thousand-dollar watches
Some of the Feds got us
Some of us dead 'lotta us
Still solid though using all the lips the streets taught us

And what that heat cost us
And what that loss gave us
(Fucking with the people is always gonna come back around)
(It's about to be)
Big movements from below
The golden age lies ahead
Struck
Goes
Pro-
Ceed

You can't lie to yourself
You can't lie how it felt
No surprise how the cards getting dealt
(That's why) I won't be back for a long time