[ Featuring Millennium Jazz Music, Pawcut ]
Didn't I mention all the tension there?
That's the reason you're alone at home, my engineer
Little bitch to bring warmth, I never claim to be too literate
At best a dude, sorta considerate
Calls to the homies here and there, but such a gulf between
Superimposed, so we keep running through this smokescreen
That don't benefit us, we working for their power
The seconds to minutes of so many hours add up
But it only adds up to the halves
We'd have not a single care if your cupboards bare
I'm sitting listening to Freddy Hubbard here in the Stu-Stu-Studio
Intensely focus on my opus while some old friends focus on detracting
'Cause they need something to distract them from the hopelessness
I don't feel that's them, most of us feel the same way
Some of our hands for us are trapped in a gangway
Had they cross-authored in a strange way
I can't call it though, your form
Can you call it, bro?
Whatever happened to all our bros?
Whatever happened to all our bros?
Yo, I can't call it though
Your form, can you call it though?
Whatever happened to all our bros?
Whatever happened to all our bros?
Uh, not sure if I mentioned
Didn't I mention that I'm feeling better?
And all the tension I can envelope in this letter
When in the times we were broke with no recourse
Somehow we trekked on, no thanks to self-absorbed travel companions
And some suckers that don't have your back
But you find out when it's time to grind
I shine like smiles in the good times
And we don't got time to be aligned with your insincere kinds
The opposite of that word, in fact
When it boils down, you can tell by just how they act
Can't call it though, your form
Can you call it though?
Whatever happened to all our bros?
Yo
Didn't I mention that I'm still awake?
In this crazy pile of rhymes and messy record crates
Let the TV go dark, dim the lights
It's just me and this pen and this beat
In for the night, it's something 'bout the repetition
Solitary expedition, just existing now
Nothing if not persistent
Some are resistant upon acting tough, it's inefficient
But youth is a up-load of dumb ambition
Surprise, these creeps are still bluffing, Duke
Go get your goons, I know you'd rather spoon a cup of soup
Than rendezvous, go grab a six-pack of brew
Make it twelve, gotta get to O'Hare
Catch you on some social media, your press'll stare
Necessary evil, I know
But you stay up with your people, I know
We're so separated, even in the same city
Been chattin' with Rod Fazzuk about it, Duke
We gotta break bread, cook stew
Make art, make books, make fire
Look within ourselves, in each other
It sounds simple, 'cause it is
This is not what they want us to get into
But yo, I can't call it though
Whatever happened to all our bros? Huh?
Whatever happened to all our bros?
Can't call it though
Didn't I mention that I'm still awake?
