Common - Hungry lyrics

rate me

[Common]

Yo, niggaz don't want none of this

Niggaz know they can't fuck with this

Turn this shit up just a little more

I walk the night in rhymin armor, bomb a nigga like a winter coat

Have him on Death Row searchin for an Interscope

Yet I sparkle like Irene Cara

Symbolize dope, like sirens do terror

Mariel just had a baby someone else decapitated

Flashbacks of past raps make me so glad I made it

Players is gettin traded

I drop a gem off, them who's style is jaded

My juice is grated

Shit is so bangin niggaz say it's gang related

On philosopher's rink of thought, I've skated with precision

Crews is gettin split like decisions

Com will let it ride in collision

Vision like Coleco or tele, I battle stars in stellar...

Regions, my thought scheme was my like my offspring

Now, it's teethin

My reason of rhyme applies to season and time

Season of mind, body and regions divine

In mom's cookouts, I'm leavin the swine

Verbal vegeterian, squashed beef with Ice Cube

Came in this rap life nude

Now I'm fully clothed with flows

You tricks can't hide behind expensive cars and clothes

Old niggaz I expose like Luke does hoes in videos

With classic material, imperial and rugged like

Got mag, but my slugs a mic

You fake like a smile, like a hug, I'm tight

Skip ladies, this is rip a muthafucka night

Oracle arouse, niggaz don't even run for cover right

Downtown interracial lovers hold hands

I breathe heavy like an old man, with a cold can of Old Style

Hold a Stone Isle profile

Mix between Malcolm X and Sef when I go wild

Hold mics like a second nut until the second comin

Hummin comin towards you with power like forwards do

Hip hop, you my bitch and like a Ford, I'm Explorin you

So, wack niggaz be cool, with them, I stay cordial

Flowin room temperature, cats is presumed miniature

Like golf. Soft like Tiger Woods

And real nigga angles I've stood with ways that's geometric

Don't need to rob banks with dike broads to Set it

I levitate to the occasion, lounge like a lyricist

Rhyme wise, you a rest haven

You sat by the door spooked like I was Wes Craven

You need to do more deletin and less savin

A praise in hell, raisin heaven

Like the bill on my pager leavens

What you should have known from day one

You will on day seven

"Hungry hip hop junkie in the city" (*scratched 3X*)