Bless Up - Homeboy Sandman

Word indeed

True indeed

Yes indeed

With all certainty

Definitely

Definitively

I’m from the era of team sports and jean shorts

Ain’t no need to wonder if I’m reinforced

I spend them funds to be in floors

New NYC, Sand’s finished

Yeah right homie, enjoy them fifteen minutes

For all my real heads that been down, bless up

You won’t find me using NYC for playing dress-up

Before press, vote for respect when cats pressed up

Dwight here caught a bottle on the F, it was F’ed up

I grew up choosing a rhyme

And then rewinding it

Not sure if I’m losing my mind

Or if I’m finding it

This brother wanna hear the slow Sand shit

This brother wanna hear the fast Sand shit

This sister wanna hear the first Sand shit

This sister wanna hear the last Sand shit

Me, I’m tryna write the new Sand shit

And all the time I’m tryna write the true Sand shit

Understand these other cats are just saying shit

We ain’t even in the same boat, not in the same ship

All I’m saying is I be slaying shit

I’s a brother swimming back to Africa after jumping off the slave ship

So don’t talk to me bout swimming with sharks

Thank your lucky stars it don’t even start

Wonder if imma have to buy the farm

For people get to buying the art

All I make is hits but still can’t hit the side of a barn

Broke the sanctity of reflex down three steps

On a park bench reading Moby Dick in-between sets

I never made it to greek fest to freaknik

I be mostly with a sweet chick on some sweet shit

As of recent, I dabbled in more indecent

Yo I ain’t tryna buy I’m tryna lease it

Or even tryna rent though technically yes I’d rather join ride it

Unless I peep an oil liden

I’m moving near sighted prefer to crash and hate to be invited, word up

Feel so good, like being reunited

Been tempted to put a minor on to my d***

Yo I’m just keeping it funky, the legal age out in Canada is comfy

My female pursuit is something like my soup, I like em chunky

Live day to day, but I still prefer a weekly or a monthly

I turned down (…)

To change it every meal, everyday for a leap year

But money, molly, fashion, murder rap is straight infant

Does anyone besides me have the balls of being different

I know I’m on Babylon hit-list, that’s why I keep my number unlisted

Everyone with known math, hoping on tracks, no mission

Bunch of acting like, no vision

But take a listen, How nice to separate the lies from admissions

I bet you’ll find its worth the price of admission