Keep Pushinn

(1: Blu)
 Yo. I scribbled, all out of line when I drew up a self-portrait
 Ran all out of space and found me in another orbit
 More importantly though, he wasn't late for the interview
 Kissed the interviewers hand, we weren't properly duced
 They danced through topics while skimming the truth
 Skinny dipping in each other's optical visions nude
 She threw the magazine, cause she said she knew the editor
 Chief rocker, not a competitor or a beat boxer
 Honored enough, she Peter Bradley'd with us. With her
 Drew Blake's tucked, cause she knew what was up
 I just drew blanks, blushed all the way to the bank
 Cashed a few bucks, got grub, filled up my tank
 I think she, prolly think I'm dopepretanatural
 Said I smoke with the judge, tried to feed her them apples
 Fuck classical, I listen to jazz-soul, R&B, riddim and blues
 Funk grooves, hard to tweak shit. Deep end thoughts
 I walked the streets bent. Contaminated speech be killin' then beat this
 Watch one prefix, restrict-a-remix, reach quick to keep shit
 Constipate release dates. R-S-D-L, Dual layer edition
 As soon as the scene breaks I sneak in the chicken
 Get em' Hamilton James shot, couldn't handle grim had to grin
 Nikon flashed again. Right on! Yo, this planet is hilarious right moms?
 Sike, wrong. Look like he drops bombs on a serious note
 He need a series, he's experienced folks. No inquiries though you should already know
 Hold the press, you got me long as I'm holding her dress
 When she move eye move, and it's just that fresh
 (2: Blu)
 Sunset's taking me places I lay awake to see
 Painting dreams patiently patient; playing keys
 Singing off awfully, pardon me cough, coffee breath
 Caught me walking awkwardly arguing bout' my art and death
 "Marshall what's an artist with no arteries?", I often think
 Glad I left part of my heart carved in a leaf with ink
 Blink, sharpie my sheets, no debate. Second guessing was guessing a second second too late
 I said, "Wait, can they handle a candle with no mantle?"
 Light bull over head went dull; "What should he sample?"
 Pulled Ahmad Jamal, saw a lost number on the record sleeve
 Talked like Charles; checked to see if she would guess its me
 Caught off guard, all laughing all ecstatic. Asked her "Could we do lunch?"
 She said, "Yeah Gavin." Gavin? Who the fuck's Gavin? No more laughing, phone hung up
 Must've been the wrong number. Ion' know who that was. Cuz laughed at me
 Buzz bad, actually drunk, mad happy. Started dialing other folks, "Fuck it yo, act classy."
 Sat up straight, put a button upon. Even though it's 4: 20 we'll be fresh before dawn
 Used to want Ms. Daily even though I was young. Then we slept half the day as if nothing was wrong
 She said, "John what the fuck are you on? You look a mess." I said, "Same shit as you, and it's just that fresh."