Lyrics Can't Stand to Wake Up (Motown Grown) - Wisemen

Walking the block rockin a kufi and Timbs
Grim ruby red eyes yo I swim with the sharks
Narcs bark distantly insisting on my innocence
Walk in the door cigar guts on the floor
Grab the zippo
Burn the blueberry Philly real slow
Eyes of a panther black looking out my window
We either tango with fists and elbows
Or rangle with clips furious eagle talon hollows
Follow me home and gaze down a cave of chrome
Shown to real life reflected off my birthstone
Perfecting realism prison Street corner illustration
Real life is three strikes you see stripes
Bled life when cuz was murdered a burden I had to carry
My own tears I buried
Staring at Florida′s son
Glaring like Florida's sun
Done deep thoughts over flick the four leaf clover
Roach approach my burgundy booth
Shooting I heard
Prefer to stay inside unless my kufi is bulletproof
Slide my timbs back off imma write this verse
Keep sleeping reawaken my thoughts dispersed

Ayo born in the 12th month, angels felt cold huh
Word to my old pop, keep venom like the cobra
Grow wild in the open, to open bottles often
Drink my pain away, it felt like coffins
Cement often, rose just to spite me, reality hit hard like Ike T
Im on the porch sheisty, blunted, middle finger to the police
Black hoodie, when times get ugly the streets mad pretty
Handle my city with the palm, nigga Im grown
I gotta help keep the heat and the lights on
Im flowin in but no money outta this microphone
I recite a war poem, while jumpin over obstacles
Same stanza have a stranger strangled vivid as maya angelou
Untangible rhyme animal hungry to eat
Released on furloughs from my mind, to follow God′s feet
I repeat like a broke record, habits that choke leopards
Lungs open like recievers,
Sung open wounds closed like them old voodu healers
While my niggas slammed in mausoleums
The nasea'll will keep you scratching at a coffin top
Causin gasps of poisonous wind drafts
That make the neighbors call the cops
32 flavors I drop, at the speed of a feather
Get ya shit broke like flower pots 'n May - Weather

Peace yeah y′all I′m on the East when you call
We fall smoking nights burnt my fleece in the hall
Skipping school for me was the subject class fuck it
Cash a stash for my last budget
Hash and Reggie's flash my flask to the public
Peace take a drink and stuff what I think
High like the sky or something more above it
Cuff it, Only the arms of god touch it
Golden rocks is Mics on site, Illah corrupt kids
Peace to Moms pop′s life
And Just with rough bids
Inhalers who snuff lids and cuss
Rusty minds and plus dust bid yall word up