The words of music get confused sometimes (I know what you think of me) I know what you think of us (I know what you think of me) We used to have the house aglow Outside of the bungalow that's prehistoric It can be recorded A slutty Philly's down the spinal bracket On top of a vinyl jacket so euphoric Your entity distorted You'd put weed inside the apple pie For reading by a candle light and theater groups Something is the truth You say you can't leave the rap alone The reed of the saxophone stays on your tongue You stay on one and here's the proof My father's slum was like Beirut Developed in the ways of life Around and round the trade routes Sell the microwave set to them whites For a knowing odd get accused of a voting fraud By that unknowing god I've seen the best minds ever Fight to death over kitchen scraps Yeah you can put your roll away There ain't no guarantee you'll ever get it back No (I know what you think of me) (I know what you think of me) What the fuck is wrong with me You know that this song is free Nothing can belong to me Can you get along with me I- Fuck that I'm plagued by art I'm writing poems in a Parisian flat For freestyling in your house where the TV's stacked (I know what you think of me) (I know what you think of me)