theme from flo jack - m-flo

※No, you know, tomorrow won't come so soon,

I gotta get through to you

No, you know, tomorrow won't come so soon,

I gotta make that move

No, you know, tomorrow won't come so soon,

it'ssomethin' I've gotta do

No, you know, tomorrow won't come so soon,

I gotta get through to you※

Featuring the staunch lyricist,

the verbiage with turbulance supernatural,

the vertebrate, sure to lift roof tops

the journalist, correctin' y'all with rhetorics, like litmus,

test y'all no need to withdraw, we gold medalists

make the people go apes, as I locate

choice vocabulary, to rotate bodies, my head aches,

for mistaken ones receiving blatant puns, live and direct,

from Verbal's high maintenance poetry…

MC's best lo and be-hold

I know you peepin this like key-holes, when I freak flows

wack shows get vetoed, propellin' 'em to outter limits

thoughts developin', light 'em up like filaments,

at late night like Letterman

David, I make statements, aiming directly

with the gift that God sent me, no doubt it's strictly

the truth engulf avalanche with impulse,

bigger than what, tenfold, we the vigilantes

with bent bows, you know?

(※くり返し)

Late midnight run, sometimes I feel so blue

I pass one hundred, like I never knew

I close my eyes, pretended that you are here, yeh

And let these simple words flow till you disappear.

I establish an order in this sector,

guardian angel reflect the light, lyrically,

I own the mic, you slept, the demo tape that

you ejected haunt you, return you want to,

hand with the one you dissed before and slander

presently and conjure up some hallucination,

identify the stations where my vocal's heard count

the total verbs, you be flipping at the load of words

my destiny's set pre-naturally, forget Maybelline,

I got no maybe's running more slow, than your

nose without, antihistamine,

I'm in the future, MC's who misdemean,

is left to be history so who'd ya

think you spittin' at, I represent a different map

Hip Hop diplomat, iceberg

you seeing the tip of that, see right through ya

like the original flo-jack God-glorifying

poor spiritual aristocrat remain anonymous,

my lyrics outfit astronomers air-tight apparels,

third commandment for idolaters

(※くり返し)

I've been wondering what's gotten into me

Those sweet words are hard to believe

Stop playing games and let me let you know

It ain't just what you show but why you show this.

「Verbal flow like there's no tomorrow.」

Yo let me constellate and track with verbiage

I extract expect no less but maximum

the cat's be done with this illness I contact

I commit the act of subtraction

on wack ones even snatch crumbs,

on financially bad months, yo you'd be messing

with the rare specimen,

whose vision is endangered just

cause you ancient and tangent off the track

while I be ever-changing you wonder,

where all these thoughts come from Verbal,

the mind-toucha, enveloping you like Won ton,

as I'm rhyming like it was vomit, profusely,

pardon the language, now excuse me

as I enter the my archives and choose the methods by

which to carry out, whether

by land or aerial cause this kid cannot be

stereo-typed, got more brothers than

Mario ripe for harvest, new-jack,

but not a novice call this the hip hop fan,

blowing away emcees like sawdust

I promise, I ain't your average artist,

my thought is looking to God for direction,

and not to goddesses.

Come closer look and see

Is this Reality

Believe and truth shall set you free

Unchained this soul of mine

To cross this great divide

Through endless ages and

through time

(※くり返し)