Pop That Tune

Sittin in the room its black, colder than a vacant shack. Nobody walking but all I hear is the floor crack. Got the pen in my right hand and the paper in my lap, flowing out ideas like a leaking brain tap. This aint a gangsta rap this a pop tune the ones you don't think up, but they come to mind too soon.
My head is crowded but the thoughts I have are official yall don't know nothin bout it. I close my eyes at night, dream of the moonlight. But then all of a sudden the tune came back through hindsight. I can hear it blasting in my ear with all its might. The tune so cold I can't put up a fight.
I'm falling asleep b/c of the irony of the tune in my blood causes the anemia. I'm gaining hunger for the media. People I don't know pop up like weeds in the grass it is like "High Nice seeing ya". Then the tune came along after a while I thought it was gone, it reminded me that I was hanging with the fools that did me dead wrong. I knew for a minute I heard they same old song. So I threw them nighas back like a bag of draws. They were up my a@$ too much, I'm better than that I never hang with a lame bunch. I'm classy and stay to myself like Victoria's Secret when Hane's come my way I tell them like Michael to beat it.
I work like a smooth criminial when I send the world my messages they are subliminal. Now back to the radio I don't mean to be rude but when it comes to the things you here you gotta pick and choose, like a fresh pair of kicks but lets keep it simple I meant shoes. When the craziness appear and my vision ain't clear. Just pop that tune. Look up to the sky for the man on the moon he will tell you the stories on how he defeated everybodies doom, yep just clear your mind and pop that tune.

Copyright ©2008 Aleisha Williams