“Rosa Parks” Verse II

(André Lauren “André 3000” Benjamin)

I met a gypsy and she hipped me to some life game
To stimulate then activate the left and right brain
Said, “Baby boy, you’re only funky as your last cut
You focus on the past, your ass’ll be a has-what.”

I made the acquaintance of a Caucasoid nomad,

Who informed me about this game we call Life.

She informed both my rational and intuitive capacities.

Why, this bohemian told me, “Infant lad, you are only as novel as your last song.

If you concentrate only on your past, then your fame will be forgotten!”

That’s one to live by, or either that’s one to die to
I try to just throw it at you, determine your own adventure
André got to her station, here’s my destination
She got off the bus, the conversation lingered in my head for hours

That is advice to live by—heed it not and suffer the end of your career!

I give you the best of my talents, lady; you may respond however you see fit.

I arrived at her bus stop—how I wish it were mine!

She departed the bus, leaving me to ponder our conversation.

Took a shower, kinda sour ’cause my favorite group ain’t comin with it
But I’m witchya ’cause you probably goin’ through it anyway
But anyhow, when in doubt, went on out and bought it
’Cause I thought it would be jammin’

I bathed, masturbating my thoughts to their physical conclusion.

I was feeling sour because my most-adored coterie was producing sub-par music.

However, I remain loyal to them as they’re likely suffering through trying times.

In any case, since I wasn’t aware of their new album’s level of quality,

I purchased it, for I thought it would be dulcet.

But examine all the flawsky, wawsky
Awfully, sad and it’s costly, but that’s all she wrote
And I hope I never have to float in that boat
Up Shit’s Creek, it’s weak as the last quote

But all I hear when I listen are the group’s many shortcomings.

It’s terribly sad and also costly, for they’ve lost my fandom,

And I don’t care to discuss it further.

I just hope I never have to join that group on their “sinking ship”!

They will be in dire straits—their music as insubstantial as any final farewell...

That I want to hear when I’m goin’ down, when all’s said and done
And we got a new Joe in town
When the record player get to skippin and slowin down
All y’all can say is them niggas earned them crown but until then

…I hear as I shuffle off this mortal coil and “drown”!

When everything has been said and done, and we have a new mayor in our town,

When the record player begins repeating itself and slowing down—

When all of this transpires, the only thing you all are left to say

Is that those African-American males (my partner and I)

Earned our status as the “kings” of hip hop! Until then, however…