Cool Like The Blues
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Yo, what's up, mic check, one, two, one, two
How you feeling out there?
Ahhhhhhh
When I was a baby with a rattle in my hand, I was cool
Born to be a beat poet with the word as a tool
So I walked small steps, acquired knowledge in books
Stood on the stage and rocked my lyrics over syncopated hooks
Funky drum fills while I developed my skills
Observing my surroundings, looking out a window sill
Raised as a young'un with a diet of soul
And psychedelic grooves from the musical bold
Had a lot of spirit, positive vibes
And now I'm making music on a spiritual high
Followed the stars that led to the spotlight
And now you can trip to the tune of my insight
I signal the crowd and let 'em know I'm here
I get a couple of snaps, I may be laughing, shed a tear
The latitudes I follow means I never could lose
I'm on a path filled with karma and I'm cool like the blues
Because I'm cool like the blues
Still cool
Because I'm cool like the blues
Just cool
Well, I can laugh and hit the road, scream yellow like a howl
Eat a lunch with a menude, I'm only eating fish and foul
I got a ticket exploding while I dance beneath the water
A subterranean and a rhythmic head nodder
A tattoo provider rolling like an Impala
Don't step to the kid because your shit is cannaflour
From the western lands, I got a band, I got a band
The beatniks follow paths to the mic stand
Like Will and Gabe, getting ready for a trip to San Francisco
Down the road to L.A., drinking antifreeze and Cisco
The big beat bangs, you're stomping with a mad bass
Dazed and confused, never knowing time or space
Stairway to heaven, I'ma climb, I'ma climb
A bug powder dusting and I lost my sense of time
You're junk sick sucker lost your works up in your vein
Twenty-four track bandit with a fiend to entertain
Because I'm cool like the blues
Still cool
Because I'm cool like the blues
Just cool
I got a life saver rope chain, Pendleton Endeavor
Alice B. Terk, listen, Annie Hall forever
Wrote the twenty-seventh letter and I called it by its name
Subliminal reciprocates inside a drunken game
Crispy rye bread, a hot cappuccino
A new age junkie robbing stores in Sausalito
A soul-vang soup and a second-rate boom
A late night cable and a slice of apple loom
I kick smooth blasphemy anytime I dive
I dip into a dollop, never working nine-to-five
Disregard rules, bad grammar if I choose
I'm Sunday driving 'cause I'm cool like the blues
It really doesn't matter, religion is a book
And Ixoy what, spirituality is my best friend
Intellectual as a two-dollar buck
And if you're having trouble, bummer, I just don't give a...